Purple rain
by Taipan Kiryu
Summary: G1. Thundercracker must face the mistakes of his past as he tries to recover his most precious treasure. Without notice, all our life can be decided in one single moment.
1. Chapter 1

_Author´s notes: This story takes place during the G1 series and it was written trying to get deeper in Thundercracker´s character, one of the most fascinating Decepticons of that unforgettable first season. Please leave me a review and let me know how you liked it. I want to thank my friend KayDee Blu for being my beta reader.  
_

_Disclaimer: Transformers belong to Hasbro, Takara and others. This is just a fan fiction written for entertainment purposes._

**PURPLE RAIN**

**Written by Taipan Kiryu**

**Chapter 1**

Thundercracker read for the second time the message that had just arrived a couple of minutes ago on his personal computer. It was addressed to him, but it was written in a very impersonal way. Definitely wrote by Soundwave.

But it wasn´t the coldness in which the Decepticon Communications Officer used to write up the official notifications what was bothering Thundercracker. It was the absolute lack of meaning behind the words, hundreds of Cybertronian characters that his mind couldn´t arrange in that moment.

Those kind of attention failures weren't common with him, but they had begun to happen since being on Earth. He often associated it with the unstable temperature of the planet, or the fact he had to spend more time than he could stand locked in an underwater base, very far away from the sky.

Thundercracker´s glance was lost on the screen of the computer, his attention very far away from the contents of the notification he had just received. His grey hands tightly held the arms of the chair in which he was sitting. His serious face was lightly illuminated by the glimpse of the screen. The rest of the room was almost obscure.

But the darkness of his personal quarters was suddenly broke by an abrupt purple light, as a tall slender figure appeared right beside Thundercracker´s chair. Such a phenomenon would have been surprising to any other Transformer, but the blue and grey Seeker was very used to that after having witnessed it thousands of times.

It wasn't rare for Skywarp to teleport inside Thundercracker's quarters as his deep dislike for loneliness made him a very recurrent visitor. He used to do it all the time, no matter the hour. The blue Seeker didn´t like to be disturbed when he wanted to be alone (which was practically all the time), but millions of years of being the favorite target of Skywarp´s friendship had taught him it was useless to try and keep the black and purple Decepticon out of his privacy.

"Hey, TC! Why is it so slagging dark in here? Lights at one hundred percent!" said Skywarp, dropping a datapad onto his friend's lap.

Thundercracker sighed and watched without interest at the data pad Skywarp had threw at him. Before he barely read the message on the little screen of the device, which happened to be the same one he had just received, his optics blinked at the increase of the lightning.

"I also received this communication, Warp. I was just reading it."

"We are in charge, bro!" said the black jet, letting himself fall to Thundercracker´s recharge berth. "Do you know what that means? Free time!"

The blue Seeker tossed the data pad aside and turned off his computer.

"We will be on duty," he simply said.

Skywarp made a disdainful face. "Just at the beginning. Didn't you read Soundwave´s message? We'll have three complete cycles of rest after delivering the energon shipment. Three free cycles, TC!!"

"Still, you shouldn't take things for granted, Warp. It´s the biggest energon shipment that has been sent to Cybertron in years."

Skywarp smiled and looked at the roof above him. He put his hands behind his head, like a pillow.

"Yeah… and it was assigned tous_,_" he said, as if he were talking to himself.

Thundercracker turned around in his chair and glanced at his wingmate.

"Direct orders from Megatron. It seems that he's very pleased with us lately."

"Logic, TC. We've had a seventy three percent success rate in our last energy riots. That, and the fact we practically took down those filthy Aerialbots by ourselves! Slagging pieces of junk, how they dare call themselves fliers?"

Thundercracker nodded his head slowly. He envied the permanent joy Skywarp always had. No matter the circumstances, the black jet was always relaxed and cheerful. Nothing ever seemed to worry him.

"Just two more cycles and we'll be out of this hole," continued Skywarp, his optics dimming slightly with delight as a huge smile crept over him.

Thundercracker would have liked to share in his enthusiasm.

* * *

Living eighteen thousand feet under water had its advantages. There were practically no possibilities of having encounters with human creatures and any attempt of an Autobot intrusion could be easily detected hundreds of miles away. Besides, and what seemed to be even more important to Megatron, was that being under the sea kept the annoying earth noise away. And even though there was an important number of sea fauna living around the Decepticon base, the tranquility provided by the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean was never disturbed.

However, for a Transformer flier, specifically a Seeker, things were very different.

But that night it wasn´t the need to fly what had kept Thundercracker awake. It was a single, repetitive thought. He had spent the last hours turning from one side to the other on his recharge berth.

He gave up, finally, to the possibility of rest for the night. He activated a mental command of the lights to his quarters to fifteen percent intensity, as light shadows reflected down onto his blue and grey body. Skywarp was right. Thundercracker always kept the intensity of the lights at very low levels. He had always felt comfortable within the darkness.

He slowly rubbed his hands on his face and got up. Like every Seeker, he was claustrophobic, and spending big amounts of time in a reduced space was unbearable torture. But this night, his growing feeling of asphyxiation didn´t have anything to do with his claustrophobia.

By pure instinct, without giving it a rational thought, he opened the door of his quarters and left the room, his steps leading him toward the launch tower of the Decepticon base.

His need for the sky was now an urgency.

* * *

After flying all night, Thundercracker came back to the Nemesis base right at dawn, a couple of hours before the beginning of his surveillance shift, the last one before his departure to Cybertron the day after.

Instead of heading to his personal quarters, he walked toward a big corridor beside the Control Room that leaded to a huge door that was always closed. But the Seeker knew that, despite the early hour, the inside of the room was full of activity.

He stood in front of the door hesitantly before pushing a red button that was on the outside.

He waited for several seconds. He had to push the button three more times until the door hissed open and the ill-humored face of Bonecrusher welcomed him.

"Ah… it´s you, Thundercracker. What do you want?" said the Constructicon.

"I need to speak with Hook," answered the Seeker uneasily.

Bonecrusher glanced at Thundercracker in silence for some seconds and then turned around to walk inside the huge quarters. Thundercracker followed him, his discomfort increasing.

They passed a huge table in which Scrapper, Long Haul and Mixmaster were working on some kind of strange device. As the Seeker walked by, three pairs of not very friendly optics glanced at him.

"We're busy, Thundercracker," spat Scrapper.

"Busy, very busy," repeated Mixmaster.

"It will just take a moment," replied the blue Seeker, avoiding Scrapper´s optics.

Bonecrusher stopped right beside Long Haul and started to analyze a blue print full of red marks. He motioned toward a door at the end of the quarters, signaling he didn't seem to care anymore for Thundercracker´s presence.

The Seeker walked toward the door, which hissed open when its movement sensor perceived his proximity. Hook was inside, leaning over a big motor.

The Constructicon adjusted a pair of circuits and tested them three times before addressing his visitor.

"_What_, Thundercracker?" he asked, his optics focused on the circuits he had adjusted.

"I need a favor," replied the Seeker.

Hook´s right hand stopped right before adjusting another pair of circuits. His optic visor narrowed.

"A favor?"

The blue jet nodded.

"A neutral disguise… for tomorrow," he said casually.

Hook´s attention was caught. He folded his arms across his chest, tapping the tool he had in his right hand against his forearm.

Thundercracker bowed his head. "I know it´s sudden but…"

"We are very busy here. Besides, I don´t think I need to state that personal favors are not my forte," Hook said, returning his attention to the motor.

Thundercracker´s uneasiness grew. He glanced at the motor that Hook was repairing. As always, the work of the Constructicon's perfectionist was impeccable.

"If that's all you wanted…" continued the green and purple crane, watching the door.

"I really need this, Hook."

The Constructicon returned to his work. "Why don´t you go with Swindle? Perhaps he can help you."

"I need a complete disguise, not that bunch of junk Swindle could get me. Something that allows me to be… unnoticed."

Hook glanced at Thundercracker again. His mouth began to form a grin.

"Unnoticed, huh? Are you planning to get into enemy territory during your stay in Cybertron, perhaps?"

Thundercracker frowned. He didn´t want to give too much information to the Constructicon, even though he was the only one who could help him at that moment.

"Something like that," he muttered.

Once again, Hook tapped the tool he was holding, this time against his leg.

"Come back tonight. Your petition will be ready," he said, returning all his attention to the motor ahead of him.

* * *

Skywarp and Thundercracker walked out from the space bridge module on Cybertron. Skywarp did it effusively, looking at the somber Command Center of the Decepticon base at Polyhex like if he were watching a paradise.

"Back on Cybertron, TC!" he said cheerfully, poking Thundercracker´s chest. "Three entire cycles after we secure the energon shipment! I won´t be sober for an astro second, I tell you!"

Shockwave glanced at them coldly from his eternal post in front of the huge computer of the Command Center.

"The transfer of the energon shipment has been successful, Shockwave. No cubes were damaged during the trip," informed Thundercracker.

The voluminous purple robot nodded in silence and typed a large sequence of numbers on the keypad of the computer. At the moment, a little army of identical drones started to carry the energon cubes out of the space bridge module.

"By orders of Lord Megatron, you have been authorized to be dismissed for three cycles. You will be given the exact hour of your departure when the drones finish securing the energon. Be sure of coming back on time for your return to Earth," Shockwave said coldly, still typing huge ciphers on the computer.

"We will, One Eye, we will…" said Skywarp waving a hand and dragging Thundercracker by one arm.

Some minutes later, the fresh air of the Cybertronian eternal night welcomed both Decepticon Seekers.

"This is what I was talking about, TC! Back to the old Cybertron! I was so tired of that slagging bunch of organic garbage!" Skywarp said, his happiness clearly revealed in his huge smile.

Thundercracker glanced at the tall buildings surrounding them. He was surprised not to feel at least a little amount of the excitement of his wingmate. After all, he hadn´t been on Cybertron in more than four million years.

Skywarp rubbed his hands with delight as an evil grin appeared on his face.

"Do you know where we should head, TC? The night is young!"

"Primus, Warp! We just got here and you're already thinking about getting over energized?"

Skywarp cackled. "Actually, I was thinking about femmes. But now that you mention it, it wouldn´t be a bad idea to start with a couple of cubes of the best high grade energon around. Come on, let´s not waste more time here."

Thundercracker stood still. "I´ll catch you later. There are a couple of things I want to do first."

Skywarp stopped in his tracks. There were few times which Thundercracker had used that tone. The black Seeker looked at his friend deeply, his curiosity awakened. However, he knew perfectly well that if his friend didn´t give details about his activities, it meant he didn´t want to be questioned about them.

"Huh… TC… Will you be OK? I mean…"

"If I need you I'll radio you, Warp."

Skywarp glanced at Thundercracker hesitantly for a moment, and then smiled. "You better, because we are…"

Thundercracker rolled his eyes.

"Come on, TC! We are…"

Thundercracker sighed. "Best friends," he muttered.

"That´s right, bro!" yelled Skywarp, palming his wingmate´s back with more strength than any normal friendship would require.

Yes, definitely Thundercracker would have liked to share Skywarp´s enthusiasm.

* * *

_To be continued._

_A/N: Have you ever wondered if there´s such thing called destiny?_


	2. Chapter 2

_Author´s notes: Within the vast Transformers universe, there lays a virgin field for fans to let their imaginations run wild, where deeper interpretations and introspections lie. Wars not only do terrible damage to a soldier's mind, but also deeply affect pasts and families alike. This is one of those stories._

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Snakes.

Very few Transformers on Cybertron had any knowledge about those creatures from planet Earth that were condemned to crawl eternally, punished by the unforgettable sin of one of their kind, who dared to be the provider of the forbidden fruit of wisdom.

But if any human scientist who possessed a shred of knowledge on terrestrial biology or human mythology would have taken an aerial view of the surface covering a certain marginal zone within the city of Iacon, they would have easily compared it to a snake's nest.

Deep within the city, very far away from the glorious stronghold of the Autobot army, existed a no bot´s land. Obscure and shattered streets crossed one another without any logic sense of direction. Some were built to satisfy immediate necessities, while others seemed to be the product of some twisted mind´s caprice. Those forgotten streets had become shelter for Empties, mechanoids without allegiance that had spent their lives with no further meaning than acquiring the energon that would allow them to live another cycle.

One of those outcasts, a deformed brown and grey Transformer, walked silently through those streets, looking at the ground below him, oblivious to all the other Empties who were going about their way, too lost in their own thoughts to bother acknowledging the presence of another sentient being.

The place had changed so much during the last nine million years. War and hopelessness had made havoc far beyond any damage that time could make. The zone that once had been one of the most secure and comfortable urban areas of Iacon, was now a deteriorated core. Besides the Empties, its only inhabitants were dealers and a few pacifist Autobots that had assumed the task of cleaning up the area.

Thundercracker walked limping, dragging his right leg a bit with every step, avoiding visual contact with the mechanoids he crossed paths with, ever keen to their suspicious glances and the threatening stature he was sure his presence was giving off even through the disguise he was wearing.

He knew in the zone there were no surveillance cameras. The Autobot Council was too busy fighting the Decepticons to care about a bunch of pariahs. But despite that, the Seeker couldn´t help but to feel that unmistakable glance pinned to his back, the same cognitive instinct a warrior feels when he is about to be ambushed. Millions of years of war had taught him that.

However, his uneasiness wasn't stemming from the danger of infiltrating enemy territory. His mind was totally focused on something else, on _somebody_ else.

He arrived at a street barely illuminated by a lonely lamp that was on top of a shattered transmission tower, and thus relatively safe from the area´s crooks, most of them being unable to fly.

Thundercracker hunched, uncomfortable under the disguise he was wearing, and headed toward the end of the street, staying close to the wall.

He reached his destination. A shattered dwelling with very few traces of its past comfort. The once sound and perfect structure was now highly unstable by the oxide filling it and the dents that had been caused by ancient laser shots.

Thundercracker stood still in front of the door, protected by the darkness. For a single moment, he repented about his presence there, and he seriously considered going back, erase his steps, and forget for good about the existence of that dwelling and what was inside. But that was impossible. He had escaped from his past for almost nine million years, and he knew by experience that forgetting was not an option.

His hand, awkward under the heavy disguise Hook had made for him, pushed the once red button that was beside the door.

Many seconds passed. There was no answer. Thundercracker pushed the button again, and again, and again, during the long minutes in which he remained standing in front of that closed door.

At some moment he lost the notion of time itself. Everything that existed was him and that button. He would continue pushing it, no matter if the answer he expected would never come. Suddenly, his patience had no limits anymore.

Finally, a dim light turned on above Thundercracker and illuminated him, as a sensor behind the door scanned him.

"_Leave_."

Thundercracker felt every one of his circuits trembling from the emotionless voice that emitted from the commlink above the red button. For an instant, he couldn't feel his legs and had to lay a hand on the wall to maintain himself on his feet.

The voice silenced, but the continuous buzz of the commlink indicated that the owner of the voice was still in there.

The Seeker dimmed his eyes inside his disguise, unable to speak. Abruptly, his chest hurt as he felt his spark saturate with a mixture of emotions, as strong and painful as he could not remember.

"It´s me… Steelcrank," he whispered to the commlink when he found the strength to speak. His voice sounded foreign as he said the name he hadn´t heard in almost nine million years, the original name bestowed upon him so long ago.

The buzz stopped. Seconds went by, infinite and hurtful. Thundercracker stayed by the door, his head bowed, his spark a living disaster. Finally, the door hissed with a squeak and stopped before it was completely opened.

Thundercracker rose his shivering arm and opened the door. Before getting inside the darkness that was waiting for him, he hesitated again. The memories arrived like strong and hurtful punches. But he knew putting it off was not an option… not this time.

* * *

A pair of blue optics glanced at the bulky brown mech that came inside. Cranker recognized the new comer, despite the deformed armor he was wearing. His spark could feel him, no matter the millions of years in which they hadn´t seen each other.

After the door laboriously closed behind him, the brown robot made a harsh movement and the armor that he had on fell at his feet, revealing the tall slender figure of Thundercracker.

Despite the darkness, Cranker knew he was being observed, and so did his visitor. None of them spoke. They just glared at each other, their optics dimming at the lack of light. It was the first time they had been face to face in countless millennia. Pretending was not a choice.

"Steelcrank," the deteriorated grey robot said joylessly.

"Father," replied Thundercracker, his voice flat. The Seeker lowered his head at hearing his former name said so icily.

Despite the obscurity, the Decepticon could see the disgust on the other mech´s face.

"Why have you come?" asked Cranker.

Thundercracker remained silent and bowed his head, looking to the floor.

The grey mech waited uselessly for an answer, and then he disappeared through the door that was beside him. Thundercracker followed him.

They arrived to a room that was half lit. Cranker walked to a device attached to the wall and proceeded to fill half a cube of energon. He looked at it disdainfully and tossed it to the Seeker, who caught it without effort.

Thundercracker looked around him, his optics devouring every memory that was inside that room.

"Is that the same energon dispenser I broke when I was a sparkling?" he asked, trying to soften his voice.

"It is. What do you want?" was the harsh answer.

The blue Seeker glanced uneasily at the bottom of the cube of energon.

"I´m off duty and…"

"You are not welcome here," interrupted Cranker.

Thundercracker´s hand trembled a little, though the only signal of that reaction was the slight movement the energon made, creating small pink waves.

"I thought that…"

"What, Steelcrank?" continued Cranker, his voice becoming rougher. "Did you think time could erase your shameful actions? Finish that energon and get out of here."

Thundercracker bowed his head, unable to glance at the grey mech´s optics. "Father…"

"Don´t call me that! Don´t you dare ever call me that again, do you understand?!" yelled Cranker, losing his temper abruptly.

A cold silence took over. Nothing else than the intermittent buzz of the lights could be heard.

Not daring to raise his head, Thundercracker found the strength to continue speaking.

"I´ve changed," he said.

"_Changed?_ What the slag are you talking about, kid? I can still see those disgusting insignias on your body! You're still a filthy Decepticon! Where's the change?"

Thundercracker clenched his fists in anger. What the slag was he doing there? He had thought he had so many things to tell his creator, that all the years of separation would have softened old injuries. But the mechanoid that was stood in front of him was nothing but pure rejection and intolerance. There was nothing left of the Cranker he remembered.

"I heard you finally became an elite warrior in Megatron´s army. What an honor for your creator! Tell me something, does your eminent leader know your creator is an Autobot? What an honor that must be for you, huh?"

Thundercracker bit his lip components. He wanted to get out of there, but at the same time he knew he couldn´t do it. His past, his roots, his dearest memories, everything that linked him to the beginning of his existence was there, between those walls, within those arms.

"How many Autobots have you killed, Steelcrank? What's your glorious record? You would be so proud of your fame around here! Oh, yes, don´t look at me like that. You see, in Iacon, the name of Thundercracker is infamously notable."

"Enough," said the Seeker, his voice calm but firm.

"Or else what, Decepticon? You'll kill me, just as you've done with so many of your kind?"

Thundercracker put the energon cube on the table so strongly he almost broke it.

"I didn´t come here to be insulted!"

Cranker´s face was full of anger. "Then, why are you here? Did you expect a hug from the loving creator to his prodigal creation?" The old mech cackled maniacally. "Come here and put your head on my shoulder, _son_! Who knows? Maybe you won´t stab my back this time!"

Thundercracker´s face was serious as his optics dimmed.

"I see you´ve totally closed yourself to forgiveness. It was a big mistake to come here," he muttered lowly as if he were talking to himself.

"Finally, we agree on something! Leave! Get the slag out of here now! My creation Steelcrank died a long time ago! You're nothing but a murderer, a traitor to your race, a mercenary! You're so ashamed of your realheritage, you couldn't even stand to keep the name I gave to you! Get out and never come back, slagging Decepticon scum…!"

Cranker couldn´t finish. His body convulsed horribly and he fell. With an incredibly fast and instinctive movement, Thundercracker jumped to him and held him in his arms before he reached the floor. The Seeker was waiting for a rough struggle of rejection, but it never came. The Transformer within his arms had his optics shut and wasn´t moving. Something once red and vibrant reflected dully off his grey old body. It was an aged Autobot insignia, which caressed Thundercracker´s chest as he held his creator closer to himself.

_To be continued._

* * *

_A/N: Many thanks to all the people that have read this. Please review and let me know you opinions. This chapter was beta read by KayDee Blue, a wonderful writer and friend._


	3. Chapter 3

_Author´s notes: F__rom this chapter on, I will include a few flashbacks. I thought a lot about how to include them, and at the end I decided not to point them with the horrible "Begin flashback…", and also not to write them in italics, because it´s annoying to read. I will just include them, as I think it will be very obvious they are flashbacks. Anyway, any question please let me know. Many hugs to KayDee Blu, who beta read this._

**Chapter 3**

Cranker ran faster, trying to catch up with the blue blur that was so ahead of him. A strong thud heard from the refuel room made him hurry even more.

And when he finally reached the entranceway, he found the sight of a slight domestic disaster. The recently acquired energon dispenser had been pulled out from the wall and had become a very big helmet for the head of the little blue and grey mechanoid who was on the floor, in a very amusing position, the older grey greenish Autobot had to admit.

"Steelcrank…" Cranker said affectionately, as he laboriously dodged the energon puddle that was coming from the broken dispenser. "What did I tell you about running like a mad spark? Do you have any idea how much it will cost to fix this dispenser?

The young robot hid his face completely under the device and huddled against the wall. He raised a shivering arm and blindly looked for the big hand he knew his creator was offering to him.

Cranker smiled as he reached his creation's fingers. He had been on line for just a few cycles and already he was a professional in the art of getting into trouble.

"I was trying to fly…" muttered Steelcrank indignantly from behind the broken energon dispenser. His voice sounded so flat, out of tune, like any sparkling´s voice that had just started its search for its own vocal tone.

"You're a ground Transformer, Steelcrank. You can't fly."

The little blue bot partially removed his improvised helmet and fixated his optics toward an electric poster that was attached to the wall.

"They do." He pointed at the bright battle jets.

"They are Seekers… the elite fliers of the glorious Cybertron Army."

"I want to be one of them," Steelcrank continued, his optics widening brightly.

Cranker sighed. "You weren't created to be a Seeker, son. It's not in our kind to be air bound…"

The eldest Autobot repented his words as he saw his creation's face showing the unmistakable signals of sadness. He quickly removed the energon dispenser off of Steelcrank and rubbed his head with tender brusqueness.

"Don't worry, little Crank. You don´t need to have wings to fly."

Steelcrank smiled, his sadness suddenly dissipated by the sound of his creator's words. Everything Cranker said was the living image of wisdom. With the absolute lack of experience and knowledge the sparkling knew of the outside world, the tall and bulky paternal figure was all the truth in the universe.

Steelcrank laughed giddily as he started taking the playful punches Cranker was throwing at him.

* * *

Thundercracker placed the tray he had been carrying on a table that was beside the recharge berth and sat down on an old chair he had brought from the refuel room. He removed a flexible awning cloth that he used to clean his weapons from his subspace and soaked it in a can half full of a blue liquid. He squeezed it as he frowned at the motionless body of his creator, who was lying on the berth, lightly padding the older mech's exterior with it.

Cranker was one of the oldest Transformers alive on Cybertron. Being a robot, the advance of time meant nothing, but to call him an "old" mech suited him perfectly. He was much deteriorated; the signals of his own physical decline clearly evident.

The once lustrous hues of his paint job were now dimmed with no remains of luster anywhere to be found. His once predominant greenish color had almost completely disappeared, only to be replaced with a sterile grey tone. The oxide had taken over most of his joints, especially the ones of his arms and legs. His chest had several dents that had never been repaired, and at that point it was very difficult to tell what kind of alternate machine he took the form of.

And as he sat, his optics taking in the sad dilapidated sight before him, Thundercracker doubted his creator was even still capable of transformation. It was obvious he had lost the eternal youth most Cybertronians possessed if they were lucky enough to survive the war.

The distressed Seeker knew what he had to do.

Opening the frontal compartment of his creator, Thundercracker was shocked at the sight of the obvious disaster. Most of the circuits were not functioning anymore, off line because of the oxide and absolute evidence they have never been replaced. Energon and lubricant alike flowed laboriously between the bizarre mixture of cables and flux condensers that wriggled without any order around the compartment that held the life spark of the mechanoid.

Not attempting to contain an indignant face, the Decepticon began to carefully clean the spots of calcified energon that were almost in every component of Cranker´s inner circuitry. At the same time, the Seeker diligently reconnected a few basic systems and began to take out others that were completely inoperative.

Thundercracker was no medic, but he possessed enough basic knowledge in mechanical anatomy to be able to complete simple repair tasks. Like every Decepticon, he had received strict training on self repairs. In times of war, a soldier hadto be able to repair himself. Going to the medical bay was a disagreeable luxury reserved to the badly injured or high commands.

Long minutes went by as Thundercracker worked carefully on his creator. Only the soft purring of the old electric system of the dwelling could be heard. The Seeker was thankful for the silence.

* * *

Cranker came back slowly to the world of consciousness. Before the darkness subsided though, the first thing he had felt was something vaguely familiar, something he hadn't felt for a long time…the loving touch of a strong but kind hand.

The old Autobot´s optics came back on line and focused on the figure that was sitting beside him. He moved weakly, catching the attention of his improvised healer.

"Don't touch me," Cranker hissed. His voice trembled of anger and weakness, as he lifted an arm to try and push Thundercracker away.

The Seeker easily intercepted the hostile gesture from his creator, preventing him at carrying on any further. Cranker shivered as he felt the touch of those fingers around his wrist.

"It's a shame," said Thundercracker upset, ignoring his creator's words. "How could you allow _this_ to happen? Most of your systems should've been replaced vorns ago! It's a miracle you're even still functioning!"

Cranker's face turned into utter contempt as he brusquely shook free from his creation's grip.

"That's none of your business. It's my physical structure and I'll do whatever I want with it," he spat.

Thundercracker wasn't swayed by the stubborn explanation, or rather, lack of. "As far as I can see, you haven't done anything for it," he retorted.

"Shut up and get the slag out of here. Leave me alone or I'll call the Civil Guard. Did you know your head has an elevated price?"

Thundercracker continued repairing what he could, not giving any signal of having heard Cranker´s spiteful words, easily rejecting any attempt the Autobot was doing at keeping his digits away from him. Eventually, Cranker stopped fighting. He remained motionless on the berth, his optics staring coldly up at the ceiling.

Finally, having finished his repair session, Thundercracker set the tools he had been using back onto the tray.

"I've cleaned all the surroundings of your central processor and reconnected the flux capacitors. However, you'll need to replace the 55.7 percent of your circuits if you want to function another million years," Thundercracker informed, his voice flat.

Very fast for his weak condition, Cranker closed his chest compartment.

"I think I told you to leave," he said icily, his optics still on the ceiling.

Thundercracker folded his arms across his chest and sat back in his chair.

"You're in no condition to be left alone."

Cranker snorted disdainfully at the Seeker's attempt at compassion. "I've had attacks like this for ages and they've never caused me a major problem. Go away!"

"If you don't want a medic to attend to you, I can replace your inner circuitry and…"

"Slag, kid! Is there something wrong with your audios? Your help is NOT required, and even lessappreciated! Get out of here!!" Cranker exploded, his optics full of long standing anger.

The Seeker rested his elbows on his legs and glanced absent-mindedly at the flexible awning cloth he had used to clean the careless interior of his creator.

"You just won't listen to me, will you?" he shot back, a tone of defeat heavy in his voice.

"Of course not! I should've never opened that door! I should've left you out there, called the Civil Guard and watch you be arrested, _Decepticon_!"

Thundercracker frowned. "Really? You would've done all that?" Now it was his turn at avoiding having their optics meet.

"Why not? After all, it was you who taught me about treason, _son,_" Cranker´s voice was ironic and venomous.

Thundercracker shook his head slightly. A sad frown formed on his lip components. "I see second chances are not within your programming," he said with pessimism.

"Not with ones of your kind," spat Cranker disdainfully, glancing at the purple insignias the Seeker had on his wings.

"My kind?" asked Thundercracker, clenching his fists and looking at his creator with fiery anger. "My kind is your kind! I was created directly from your spark through Vector Sigma…"

"My kind is not of traitors. You're nothing but a murderer… a monster," Cranker replied gravely.

Thundercracker stood up violently, the tray smashing onto the floor as his wings hit the table.

"I'm not a monster! I'm your son!" he cried, his face transformed abruptly into a mask of pure rage.

Cranker backed away toward the wall, his mouth half opened, unable to speak. The young Steelcrank had always been temperamental, but this tall and powerful stranger who was looking at him with angered red optics, with those slender and large cannons shinning dangerously on his shoulders, was the image of evilness.

Several seconds of tense silence went by. Finally, Thundercracker turned around and kneeled, beginning to pick up the contents of the tray that had scattered all over the floor.

Cranker sighed soundlessly as he looked at the back structure of his creation where two imposing wings spanned outward. Very little remained of the body he had built so many millenniums ago.

Steelcrank had changed. He was so mature now, so secure about himself. Like the name he now called himself, his voice was like thunder, booming and ominous. Every movement was marked with a strong agile ness. His character was very serious, very different from the unstable sparkling he used to be. War had a nasty habit of doing that… changing a mech's personality into a grim, rippling after effect of the horrors it produces, forcing an onset of sudden maturity, and imminently destroying all innocence before it even had time to mold itself into that crucial point of self discovery.

The rebel Cranker had loved so much, was now a true soldier.

* * *

Cranker sat in the small room in the chair the red femme had pointed him to. The place was quite uncomfortable. The desk and the two chairs sitting in front of it barely fit in the center of the room. The desk held loads of messily stacked data pads and a big out of date computer setup. There was only one window, very small, which didn't seem to have anything more than a wall behind it.

"I'm sorry I made you come without proper notification, Cranker," the femme apologized with a monotone voice.

"Please don't worry, Stigmind. Your message said it was important."

She sighed. "Important, yes… I've wanted to have a talk with you for some time now. Steelcrank is getting more… unstable… and the personnel of this institution, including myself, are worried."

Cranked bit his lip components. He had expected a little pre superficial chit chat, some small pretending cordiality, something that could give him time to adjust for what was coming, for what he knew was coming.

"First, his absences," continued Stigmind as she opened an electronic expedient on the screen of the computer. "He barely attends this Academy anymore. His evaluations are too low, precisely because of that. Do you have any idea of where he's spending his early journeys?"

Cranker shook his head in denial.

"And now we get to the real problem here… his conduct. I've had to expel him temporarily from our institution seven times. Seven! I must warn you: the next will be definitive. His violent behavior won't be tolerated anymore."

Cranked dimmed his optics with sadness. Not that he was surprised, though. Steelcrank had been involved in many sparkling fights lately.

"Our neural specialists have analyzed him. There's nothing wrong with his reasoning pattern. He's quite intelligent, actually, the most brilliant in his class. But he refuses to have major social interactions. He's also showed high rejection toward closed spaces…" continued Stigmind.

Cranker remained silent. He knew this day would come but he still wasn't prepared for it. Due to either his demanding labor schedule or his own immaturity at raising a sparkling… he just hadn't found a productive way at controlling his rebel creation. But he stillhad a lot of faith in him…

"Have you ever thought about military education?" Stigmind suggested firmly as if the thought had been brewing for quite some time.

Cranker blinked at the red femme in front of him. "Steelcrank was created to be a working robot. Our class is usually not accepted in those kinds of academies," he said lowering his head.

"Not precisely. There are always notable exceptions and Steelcrank´s case may be one of them. Up until he started showing an obvious carelessness toward his studies, he was the most remarkable athlete we've had in the last three million years. That can have a lot of influence within the Ministry of Defense."

Cranker frowned, folding his arms across his chest. Military education… wasn't that what Steelcrank had always wanted, after all?

_To be continued._

* * *

_A/N: Thanks for reading. Please let me know your opinions. _


	4. Chapter 4

_Author´s notes: Like with the previous chapter, this one will have a couple of flashbacks. I won´t write them in italics or anything. I think you will recognize them easily as flashbacks, but anyway, any question please let me know. Please leave me a review and let me know if you are enjoying this._

_Little disclaimer: Transformers belong to Hasbro, Takara and others. All I own is the story and Cranker. Big hugs to KayDeeBlu for beta reading this :o)  
_

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Thundercracker held the energon cube up to Cranker's lip components. The elder mech's response to the genuine attempt at healing concern was an expression of disdainful annoyance.

"You need to drink this. You have a high level of undernourishment. When's the last time you had decent fuel?" said the Seeker, appealing to all his patience, amazingly succeeding in not resorting to violence at forcing his creator to drink the energon.

"I don't want anything that comes from your hand," was the old Autobot's stubborn reply.

Thundercracker sighed. He placed the cube on the table beside the recharge berth on which his creator was laying on.

"Alright... it´s alright. I´ll leave it here, on the table. "

Cranker didn´t move. His optics remained fixated on the ceiling. Thundercracker rested his lower mandible on one of his fists that was being propped up by his knee joints. He sat like that for several uncomfortable minutes, feeling the marked tension throughout the air.

"You never answered me… why did you come here?" Cranker asked emotionless, his anger suddenly dissipating as he continued staring upward at the ceiling above.

Thundercracker raised his head and glanced at his creator.

"I wanted to see you…to know how you were…"

Cranker smirked at the irony within his creation's solemn reply. "This is the first time you've given any signals of life in nine million years… I thought you didn´t even remember me."

"I couldn´t come before. The war… it didn´t allow me to. Besides, I spent four million years deactivated on planet Earth. But I… I could never forget you, father."

"Stop calling me that!" Cranker spat, disgusted.

Thundercracker bowed his head. "You're my creator and I am your creation. Nothing can change that."

"Yes, and how unfortunate for me. I curse the day you ever began to function."

Thundercracker kept his head bowed. He didn't blame him. He understood his creator's attitude perfectly. But it didn't help.

_Curse the day you ever began to function._ Deep and penetrating the words cut. They rippled viciously through him, a thousand chromium spikes piercing his spark.

Silence returned, this time for hours.

* * *

Cranker was exhausted. From the fatigue of his recent collapse and the storm of emotions taking hold of his tired, old spark from seeing his creation again, the greenish grey Autobot finally shut his optics, drifting into a deep recharge state.

Thundercracker looked on as his creator fell into a soothing oblivion. He rested his backside up against the chair he was sitting in, a protective guardian watching over his treasure with delicate carefulness.

* * *

Steelcrank stood under the threshold of the dwelling´s entrance.

Cranker welcomed his creation, throwing him a small metal sphere, which the blue and grey mechanoid caught easily.

"Nice reflexes, little Crank," said the elder Autobot, smiling.

"Hi father," replied Steelcrank, shaking his head with amusement as he glanced at the metallic puzzle he used to solve when he was a sparkling. He didn´t remember the toy being so small.

"So? What are you waiting for? Come give your creator a hug."

Steelcrank tossed the metallic device and strongly hugged Cranker, lifting him up.

"Ouch… easy kid, you're gonna break my chest joints!" the greenish grey mech laughed.

"I´m sorry…" muttered Steelcrank, putting his creator back on the ground.

Cranker chuckled. "You've gotten so strong! I´m amazed."

Steelcrank shrugged his shoulders. "It´s because of the training in the Academy… physical strength is priority."

"Forget about the Academy for a moment and have a drink with me. I feel like I haven't seen you in millenniums!" continued Cranker cheerfully.

Steelcrank smiled brightly and followed his creator inside the dwelling. Cranker sat down on a big resting structure that was directly across from the large imaging screen hanging up on the wall. Steelcrank happily sat beside him.

Glancing around his surroundings, an immediate warm familiarity came over Steelcrank then. He turned to his creator, giving off a deep sigh of satisfied contentment. "It´s good to be home… I missed this."

Cranker took one of the two energon cubes that were on the table in front of them as he smiled proudly at his creation. A tall, handsome young mech he had become. Strong, imposing. The days of childish rebellion seemed so ancient now. Military education had been a good idea, after all.

The elder Autobot took a sip from his energon cube and put it on the table. His face changed into a more serious expression.

"Steelcrank, you're at a life stage where you're no longer considered a sparkling. It´s time you and I have a certain conversation."

The blue mech straightened himself up where he sat, surprised by the sudden seriousness of his creator. He took the remaining energon cube and pretended to focus his attention on the purple liquid.

"Your basic education will end soon, and it´s time you define what kind of Transformer you will be," continued Cranker.

"Ah… you meant that_," _replied Steelcrank, looking deeply at the cube, without any intention to drink it. He wasn't used to high grade. Probably never would be for that matter.

"There are available posts at the factory. With your preparation, I´m sure you could get in easily."

Steelcrank didn't reply. A slight disgusted expression fell over him from the word "factory" hitting his audio sensors. His gaze stayed fixated on the energon cube he was holding, which he had begun to slowly shake.

"Application cycles are about to begin," Cranker informed lightly. "Would you like for me to present your application to the Main Board?"

Steelcrank continued staring at the energon cube before placing it firmly on the table. He raised his head, red optics narrowed in serious conclusion.

"I don´t want to be a working robot, father," he said, his tone firm and definite.

A wave of complete bafflement overcame Cranker then. He was sure his audio sensors had misunderstood.

Steelcrank´s face remained serious as he continued speaking. "I want to continue my military career."

"But, little Crank… what are you saying? You were created as a working robot, not as a warrior…"

The young blue mech clenched his fists and looked at them. Suddenly he was forced to order the words that had been in his mind for so long.

"I'm the best cadet in my squad. My instructors think I have a very high chance at success in the army. I can… I can even become a Seeker…"

"Seeker?" Cranker repeated. "Being a Seeker is the dream of every single one of the millions of warriors in the army! Just one of every hundred thousand Transformers becomes a Seeker, not to mention only the ones created to be warriors are considered for such a position. Besides, you're not a flier…"

Steelcrank got up suddenly. He couldn´t stand being still anymore.

"I can be reformatted into a flier! If I earn it, I…"

"Stop daydreaming, Steelcrank, and face reality! You weren´t created to be a warrior. You have a brilliant future as a worker at the factory. Don´t waste it!"

Steelcrank glared darkly at his creator. When he spoke, his voice sounded foreign.

"I don't want to spend eternity as another gear in a factory, don't you understand? My destiny is to be a warrior, I've always known it!"

Cranker´s face was shadowed by sadness. "A gear, huh? Like your creator?"

"I didn't say that…"

"You didn't have to. I always suspected you were ashamed of me, but…"

"Father, I´m not ashamed of you!" Steelcrank frantically replied. Hearing the elevated decibel level present in his voice, he quickly calmed himself down somewhat. "It´s just that… I don´t want to live a life I didn´t choose. In the army I can ascend, become somebody that I… that you can be proud of."

"I see. And if you stay here, you will become somebody like me." There was wounded sadness in Cranker´s voice.

"Father…"

Cranker got up and turned around, giving his back to the young blue mech. "It's still early for you to decide. I really hope you'll reconsider," he stated seriously as he began to walk toward the refuel room.

Steelcrank sighed. "My decision's already been made."

Cranker turned around at the sound of leaving footsteps. He looked at Steelcrank, who was on his way to the door.

"B-but what are you doing? Where are you going?" the elder Autobot asked, desperation marking every syllable of his voice.

Steelcrank glanced at the exit door, not daring to look at his creator.

"I must report to Sector G-75 headquarters before the end of this cycle. I can't stay," he said quietly as he disappeared into the artificial lightning of the street.

Cranker stayed where he stood. Emptiness. Spark wrenching loss. It was all there, being held captive by the empty space of the entranceway.

* * *

Cranker´s old optics came back on line. He focused on his empty surroundings as he had done for the past nine million years. The lonely chair beside his recharge berth caught his attention immediately. A painful mixture of angered bitterness and relief fell through him.

For a single moment he questioned his sanity, wondered if it all had been a dream, a beautiful but cruel reaction of his mind to his loneliness.

But the tray on the table, the sudden relief in his inner circuitry, and mostly, the memory of the gentle touch that only the one brought to life by his own spark could give, took him out of his momentary confusion between reality and fantasy.

Steelcrank, _his_ Steelcrank, had been there.

There hadn´t been a single cycle, not one, in which Cranker´s thoughts hadn't been focused on his departed creation that had left him so long ago, wishing that the nightmare had been nothing more than that. But the loneliness and sadness played their mournful tunes endlessly, painfully filling the empty spaces that constantly surrounded him. And now, old wounds were reopened, wounds that had never closed to begin with. This time, Steelcrank was gone for good, on his way back to his disgraceful life to continue his role of enemy to his own kind.

Suddenly, he heard the unmistakable sound of the front door of his dwelling laboriously hissing open.

Joy, fury… the battle between the old Autobot´s feelings started again.

* * *

For some minutes, all that could be heard in Cranker´s dwelling was a very common symphony of metallic sounds, the same domestic movements that any regular Cybertronian would give off in their own dwellings.

Finally, Thundercracker appeared in the threshold of the room. He was carrying a cube of the purplest energon Cranker had seen in ages.

The Seeker smiled when he realized his creator was awake.

"You look better this cycle," he said.

Cranker frowned. "Where have you been?"

"I went out for a moment… to get energon and other things you obviously need."

Cranker let out a disdainful huff. "It's not on you to decide what I need. Besides, I'm not interested in anything coming from you, especially if you stole it."

Thundercracker frowned. "Steal? I didn't steal anything!" The Seeker exclaimed, highly offended by the character degrading accusation.

For as much irony the blue Seeker represented, it was a wonder how his logic circuits didn't short out as far as Cranker was concerned. He wasn't convinced, not in the slightest. "So you're telling me you actually paid for something? That's not the style of your kind; you Decepticons are all thieves," the elder mech spat coldly.

"There are many things you don't know about _my kind_," Thundercracker replied sharply as he placed the energon cube on the table beside the tray with the tools.

Cranker gave a quick glance at the pure color of the liquid in the cube. "Best quality energon, huh? And you didn't steal it you say? I see it pays good to be a high ranking mercenary within Megatron's fold."

Keeping his distance from his creator, Thundercracker took a seat in the chair sitting across the other side of the room. He folded his arms tiredly, waiting. His optics scanned everything around - the deteriorated structure of the walls, the cracked ceiling above – everything but the mech who was with him now.

Finally, upon giving up on his hostile prejudice, Cranker took the energon cube. Hesitating, the Autobot surrendered to the desperate effects of starvation rather than his pride.

The Decepticon waited until his creator finished the contents of the cube before speaking again.

"I bought a complete system of inner circuitry, in case you change your mind about the upgrades you need…" Thundercracker said.

"I won't change my mind," was the harsh answer.

Thundercracker shook his head, knowingly. "Stubbornness has always been a part of our bond, right father?" he said softly, a great achievement for his powerful voice.

Cranker roughly placed the empty cube on the table.

"I already told you not to call me that!"

"How should I address you, then?" the Seeker asked, with subdued curiosity.

Cranker didn't reply. He glanced at the empty cube, trying to lose himself within its transparent vortexes. He decided to drop the issue.

"By the way… how did you manage to go out without being recognized? This may be a hopeless place, but it is stillIacon… not safe for your kind…" the old mech said, the harshness in his tone slightly fading toward the end.

A peculiar feeling of relief swept through Thundercracker. For the first time since coming back, his creator didn't sprinkle the word "kind" with any underlying incantations of hate or spite.

Seeing the truths in Cranker's words, Thundercracker said quietly, "I disguised."

Cranker's optics rose up somewhat. "Disguised? Oh, right… that coarse armor you were wearing… I wouldn't feel so sure if I were you. This is a dangerous zone."

"I know it's not common to see Decepticons around here, but I managed to remain unnoticed."

_Decepticons_. Cranker frowned, disgusted at hearing it come out of his creation's vocal processor. There were some things he would never be able to get use to. And hearing that forbidden word uttered from the once pride and joy of his existence was one of them.

* * *

Steelcrank leaned his laser rifle on his leg, letting his body rest up against the huge metal wall behind him.

The late shift was quiet, as usual. Iacon´s Military Headquarters were within the most boring sector on the planet. And, as always, the young cadet passed his lonely surveillance shifts gazing enviously at the stars. Reaching the skies had become an obsession.

Pulled out of his contemplative reverie suddenly, Steelcrank grabbed his rifle and resumed his alert position as the sound of approaching footsteps drew closer.

"Greetings, kid," a mature and deep voice said to him.

Dutifully Steelcrank saluted his superior officer. "Sir," was the respectful reply from the younger blue mech.

The huge red mechanoid leaned against the wall, catching a quick glimpse of the beautiful Cybertronian sky.

"Rest, soldier. We've had a calm late shift, haven't we? As always," he said.

"Affirmative. As always," Steelcrank replied obediently.

The red mech smiled and looked at his young subordinate. "It would seem that you would prefer otherwise. Would you like some action, instead, like all the younglings? An attack, perhaps?"

Steelcrank shrugged his shoulders. "An attack? From who? That could never happen on Cybertron."

"And bless Primus for that! Our Supreme Council who favors peace is to thank for that."

Steelcrank didn't say anything in return. He just looked upward, watching the sky.

"I heard about your outburst the other day with Hound," continued the red officer.

Steelcrank looked at him in surprise. "Outburst? I wouldn't call it like that… it was nothing, really."

"That's not what I heard."

Steelcrank held his rifle nervously. For a moment he thought it would slip from his grip.

"And what did you hear, Sir, if I may ask?

"It seems you… overreacted with those energon dealers…"

"But Sir, they were stealing!"

"They aren't the first nor will they be the last ones. Temper, Steelcrank. Temper determines our maturity. Be more careful with those details."

Steelcrank bowed his head. "Yes, Sir."

He knew what his superior officer meant. He understood perfectly. But he couldn't accept it entirely. There was something terribly wrong in everything. There was a big lack of sense, of meaning, in everything that surrounded him.

A better life, that's what Steelcrank wanted, to distinguish himself from the rest of the gears (as he secretly called his Cybertronian cohorts). But everything he had found so far was boring – a rigid routine that probably was no different from his former destiny as a worker robot. After all, a pawn was a pawn.

Suddenly, Steelcrank was pulled out of his thoughts by his superior officer's voice.

"By the way, kid…"

"Sir?"

"Report at the beginning of the early shift to General Octane."

Steelcrank gave him a questioning look.

"You've been promoted to Seeker. You are to start your training immediately. Of course, after you get the proper upgrades." The red mech made the last remark moving his arms slightly up and down.

Steelcrank´s rifle fell from his arm and hit the ground loudly. The red officer smiled to himself when he saw the complete shock take over the young soldier's face.

"S-sir…" Steelcrank finally managed to mumble.

The big Transformer patted the smaller one affectionately on the shoulder. "No more _sir_, kid. You are to be reformatted as a Seeker. From now on, you'll only have to address the High Commands in the manner."

The red robot was deeply satisfied with the reaction of his young protégée. He had a lot of faith in him, despite his impatient and sometimes violent behavior. There was strength in that young spark… strength and determination. The elder officer was sure that one day, when Steelcrank reached his maturity point, he would become a straight and powerful Seeker, a worthy protector of Cybertron.

_To be continued._

* * *

_A/N: What determines maturity? Age, experience, intelligence, war, ambition? In an authoritarian society, individualism is the sin of every sentient being. Being metallic or not, it doesn´t really matter._


	5. Chapter 5

_Author´s notes: When the bricks in the wall are so alike, don't be surprised to have some that dare to think different. Good, bad? Unfortunately, it depends of the winner. This chapter was beta read by KayDee Blu. I thank her with all my smiles :o)_

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Muffled distant voices drifting in.

Cranker rose silently from the recharge berth. His audio sensors registered the definite voices perfectly. Needing to appease his curiosity, he headed into the main room of the dwelling. And upon entering the front area, he saw the origins of the voices that had caught his attention.

Absent mindedly watching a news bulletin of the Autobot Communications Net, was Thundercracker, sitting intently, his legs crossed.

"Spying on the enemy, kid?" said the old Transformer dryly.

Startled somewhat, Thundercracker quickly turned around and looked at his creator over his shoulder.

"There's no useful information in these public transmissions. Besides, I'm not a spy," the Blue Seeker retorted back sharply, indignation hung heavy in his tone.

A rigid smirk formed on Cranker then. "Right, I forgot. You're a Seeker, aren't you? An _elite warrior_."

Thundercracker frowned, ignoring the abrasive comment altogether. He turned himself abruptly back around. Reaching forward, he quickly changed the frequency of the transmission. An image of a fast ground vehicle suddenly appeared on screen. The Decepticon stared at it with surprise. How bizarre it was to see a recreational event in a time of war.

Cranker sat down in the chair farthest from Thundercracker. A troubled reminiscence fell upon him.

"Do you remember how much you liked the gladiator fights when you were a sparkling?" the old mech said quietly.

Thundercracker smiled, surprised for the sudden change in attitude on his creator.

He nodded. "Yes, I do… if they were still around, I'd still like them."

Cranker's reflective mood shifted then. "Ever since you were a sparkling, you admired that damn maniac… was that the reason you became one of his mercenaries?"

Thundercracker´s smile erased in an instant. It had been too soon to feel secure. He was still standing a very thin line.

"No… that wasn't the reason," he replied lowering his voice.

Cranker's optics narrowed intently on the blue mech in front of him. "Then what was it? What did he offer you? Power? Social status? Absolute dominance over your own kind?_"_

Thundercracker´s uneasiness grew. He wanted to disappear.

"Dignity," came the sullen Decepticon's reply. His fists clenched at his side. He dared not to look at his creator's optics.

"Dignity?!" Cranker yelled angrily. Millenniums of hurt and raw anger spilled forth. "Wasn't dignity your first victim the day you decided to adopt those heinous insignias?"

The Decepticon shifted about uneasily in the chair.

"I don't want to talk about that," Thundercracker muttered.

"Oh but we will, little Crank… we will." Sordid hurt saturated Cranker's syllables distinctly. "You came to me, remember? I would've been perfectly fine if I would've never seen you everagain!"

Cranker gave a quick glance at the Autobot emblems that adorned him. They were much dimmed to still be considered red, but the older mech beamed defiantly proud anyway.

"See these, Steelcrank?" Cranker pointed to the faded insignias. "They reflect my ideology… the position I assume in this universe. I suppose you feel real proud of yours, don't you?"

"That's exactlywhat my allegiance means to me!" Thundercracker shot back defensively. "And yes… I am proud to bear these insignias."

"You're proud of being a criminal, then?"

"I'm not a criminal!"

"Criminal… Decepticon… same thing. You're all sick with power, just like all those traitors who joined that insane gladiator! I didn't raise you for that, Steelcrank!"

The Seeker bowed his head in silence. There was a sudden weakness every time his creator called him by his former name. Like returning to old times again. Not that he despised his past, but so many things had happened since then. He just wished his creator could understand, as he was trying to understand him.

"Tell me something, little Crank," continued Cranker, making the powerful Decepticon shiver again at the mention of his former nickname. "What's he like? You must know since you're a part of his inner circle…so tell me, what is Megatron like?"

"He's not the insane maniac you think, I can tell you that," was Thundercracker's upset response.

"You defend him, then? I'm not surprised. After all, you are just one of his pawns."

Thundercracker turned off the monitor and stood up, making his creator flinch when he realized the evil grimace the blue and grey mech had on his face.

"I´m not a pawn! Megatron started this war precisely to save us from that kind of destiny! We're not mindless machines! Our faith is greatness!"

Cranker looked at his creation terrified. "Primus… you are a Decepticon, a real Decepticon…_"_

Sudden unexpected shame took over Thundercracker then. He escaped from those accusing optics and sat again.

"I´m just… I'm just what I choose to be," he said softly.

"And you made the biggest mistake of your life when when that decision was made," was the sad answer.

* * *

Vast admiration was spread over him as Cranker looked over the tall, athletic warrior standing in front of him. This time, the young mech needed no invitation to hug his creator.

"Easy, kid, easy… you're stronger than ever, slag!" laughed Cranker, trying to hug his creation back, which was proving to be a difficult operation due to the new wings that spanned outward from his back.

Steelcrank bowed his head with a certain embarrassment. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing… you're a Seeker, for Primus sake! Just look at yourself!"

"If I'm a Seeker it's thanks to you, father."

Cranker shook his head. "Stop! You made it all by yourself, kid. We both know I opposed since the beginning…"

"You were worried for me, and I thank you for that."

"Time proved who was right about this one. I'm so proud of you, little Crank."

Steelcrank smiled, still embarrassed, as his creator held him tighter. Cranker laid his head on his creation's shoulder and dimmed his optics. Slag, the kid was so tall now! The old mech´s spark was full of complete happiness and pride.

* * *

Cranker reluctantly sat inside the huge cleaning tub that was already filled with a greenish liquid lubricant.

"Stop grumbling and sit down! It's better when it's recently prepared," Thundercracker said as he poured a stream of green liquid in the tub from a metallic bottle.

"This is a waste of time. Besides, I'm not a sparkling to be receiving such humiliating treatment," spat the old mechanoid folding his arms. However, he sat and remained quiet.

Thundercracker thought about one or two remarks about his creator behaving worst than a sparkling, but he decided to suppress the urge. Instead, he started to rub Cranker´s back with a flexible awning cloth.

"This anticorrosive lubricant will provide you special protection against the oxide. Though in your current state, being reformatted would be the best solution."

Cranker growled but seemed to agree with his creation's opinion. Silence prevailed after that. For some minutes, all that could be heard was the sound of the soft cloth rubbing gently over the old mech´s body structure.

"Steelcrank," he spoke finally.

"What?" Thundercracker replied absently, very busy fighting a particularly deep wound the oxide had caused in Cranker´s shoulder joint.

"Could you remove those? They're really making me nervous," continued the old mech, his optics uneasily focused on the thin but deadly cannons Thundercracker had on his arms.

The Seeker nodded. Carefully, he detached the weapons, putting them beside the cleaning tub.

"Better?" Thundercracker asked.

He hadn't been so unprotected in ages. It was weird seeing his arms so bare. He actually couldn't remember a single time since joining the Decepticons when his arm cannons hadn't been attached. They were additional limbs… a part of him. And, at the same time, it was a relief not to feel them, even it it was only for a moment.

"Yes… though it would be even better if you'd also remove those insignias," Cranker replied.

"That won't happen."

"I guessed so…"

Silence.

Cranker suddenly remembered when he showed a certain sparkling how to use a cleaning tub. Now the roles were reversed. Was that the way it was supposed to be? He wouldn't have cared if it weren't for those insignias soiling everything.

Cranker spoke hoarsely. "How's your life, Steelcrank? Do you have friends… back there?"

"A few, yes… actually we have no time to worry about things like that." Thundercracker's mind arrived with images of Skywarp. He had shut off his commlink to avoid being disturbed by his black and purple wingmate, though Thundercracker was certain that, at this very exact moment, the cheerful Seeker was probably too wasted to even remember his name, lost between the arms of some femme.

"I suppose… things can get very rough sometimes, right? I've heard stories about this planet… Earth," continued Cranker, making a big effort to make his voice sound indifferent. A useless effort, as Thundercracker noticed.

"Affirmative, but don't worry. I can take care of myself."

"Who said I was worried?"

The Decepticon shrugged his shoulders. The remark wasn't entirely upsetting. He was too busy polishing his creator's physical structure, which was obviously in better state than the day before.

"That new inner circuitry system you brought…" said Cranker after some more minutes of silence.

"What about it?"

"Maybe we should give it a try," Cranker suggested mildly, avoiding his creation's optics.

"Sure… why not?" Thundercracker replied as nonchalant as he could. He fought the desperate urge of letting a relieved smile form.

* * *

Cranker rushed inside his dwelling, forgetting to shut the door. Never had he ever ran that fast in his entire life. Never.

Quickly, he turned the big imaging screen on. He didn´t have to search broadcasts. All of them were showing the exact same thing. Out of focus moving images of complete chaos. Combats. Laser firing. Cybertronians fighting Cybertronians. Ruptured, frenzied confusion. Screams. Cybertronians _killing_ Cybertronians.

War.

_Cybertron was at war_.

Cranker collapsed onto a nearby chair, wringing his hands in distress. _Primus, protect him_, he thought.

As an immediate answer to his prayer, a noise coming from Steelcrank´s room startled him. Cranker looked at the back part of the dwelling. Was somebody inside? The idea of a thief was almost absurd, though with the newly outbreak of war taking place he couldn't be sure about anything anymore. Change had made its demands loud and clear. Everything was going to change.

Before he could think about what to do, the door of the room opened and Steelcrank himself appeared on the threshold, carrying a huge metallic container.

"Little Crank! What in the name of Primus are you doing here?!"

The young Seeker seemed displeased at seeing his creator. He had hoped he wouldn't find him at this hour.

"As you can see, I'm picking up my personal belongings," he said. His tone was rare, a tone Cranker couldn´t identify.

"Are you leaving for the front line?" asked the elder mech, fear reflected in his blue optics.

Steelcrank nodded.

"Primus! Take care of yourself, kid! Don't be a hero out there, do you hear me? You're Iacon's Sector G-75 Seeker Captain but that doesn't mean you have to…"

"It's not that front line I'm heading to," Steelcrank interrupted sharply.

Cranker glanced at his creation completely confused.

The Seeker forced himself to calm down. His optics were fixated with grave seriousness.

"I'm going to Polyhex."

Complete disbelief took hold of Cranker viciously then. His lip components parted halfway, trying to form words, but no sound came from his vocalizer. Polyhex… the origin of the rebellion… the main forte of those who began spreading terror and death under the shielding of that deadly purple symbol…

Steelcrank sighed and continued speaking. "It's for our own freedom, father. The Decepticons have rebelled against the tyranny of the Council…"

Cranker stepped back, horrified, unable to understand the words coming from his creation. He couldn't accept that. What was happening was impossible. Not even the war itself could rival the inner pain that had clasped onto him.

"Megatron is right. His words express what thousands of us feel. Our desire for freedom and expansion will be reached finally!" continued Steelcrank, handing a datapad to his creator.

Cranker gave a quick glance at the Cybertronian characters written on the device. It was one of many subversive manifestos that had been circulating through Cybertron for quite some time now. The purple symbol that was all over the text made him shudder.

"How… how dare you to bring this revolting propaganda into this house, the place where you grew up?!" Cranker brutally spat, throwing the data pad onto the floor, trembling with pure rage.

"It's not revolting, father! It's freedom! _Freedom!_ Don't you understand? We won't be gears in the big machine anymore! We can choose our destiny! Megatron is a liberator! He will make Cybertron the center of the universe!"

"Crazy fool… listen to yourself! You are talking nonsense! You've been logic washed into turning against your own kind, can't you see? These Decepticons are dangerous! How did you ever get involved with them? Answer me!"

For the first time during the conversation, Steelcrank seemed to hesitate.

"Almost since I was promoted to Seeker… Megatron´s influence was already spreading throughout the army… I had the honour to meet him personally and…"

"Megatron is a murderer, that's what he is! And you are not going anywhere, Steelcrank!" Cranker commanded furiously.

The blue and grey Seeker dimmed his optics and straightened himself. His face was more serious than Cranker could remember.

"Thundercracker", he said coldly.

"What?" Cranker spat exasperated. Confusion enveloped him.

_"_Thundercracker… My name is Thundercracker now."

"What is the meaning of all this madness?? You've changed your name?? But... w-why… how…?"

"Did you know I'm able to generate sonic booms, father?" the former Steelcrank interrupted. "When I was reformatted as a Seeker and these wings became part of my body, I discovered there was something in my structure that allowed me to do that! I began to control my new skill… and then Megatron appeared. He told me I have a gift… something special that makes me unique. Under his command, I'll be able to produce sonic booms that'll shake an entire city… something never seen before in any aerial warrior!"

The Seeker talked with brighten optics, his gaze lost somewhere very far away from where he stood now. He wasn't looking at his creator, having seemed to have forgotten about his presence. Everything on him was exaltation, ambition and loyalty. The blue and grey mech in front of Cranker was a complete stranger.

"You're insane! INSANE!Repent from those treacherous ideas and stand by your kind, the ones who are fighting against those vile murderers!"

"My kind are in Polyhex."

Cranker moved too fast, even for himself. He didn't realize what he had done until the pain on the back of his hand started to sting.

Thundercracker was astonished too. He took one step back, still shocked by the burning bit of that former loving hand hitting his face with brutal strength.

But that moment of surprise lasted only for a few seconds. A killer glare over took the Seeker then. And for a fleeting moment, Cranker was sure he was going to reciprocate with a brutal attack. The lucid savagery that was staring back at the older mech frightened him to no end.

"My loyalty is to the Decepticons," Thundercracker spat with a voice Cranker didn't even recognize anymore.

Ignoring the presence of his creator, Thundercracker headed to the door.

Cranker's optics couldn't stand to look at the stranger in front of him. He turned his head away. He stood still, his back to the new Decepticon.

"If you go through that door, don't ever think of coming back! I renounce you!" Cranker shouted in desperation.

"If you join with those traitors…" he continued, the words crushing him, "…you will murder my son," Cranker finished slowly. He was aware – very aware_­_ – how they could be the last words his only creation would hear from him.

Thundercracker remained motionless for a moment at the threshold of the door; his face was an enigma.

But a decision had been made.

He left, closing the door behind him.

Cranker collapsed to the floor, defeated. Hurt… penetrating, devouring every last light of his spark… hurt… his body being shattered into pieces.

_To be continued._

* * *

_A/N: Thank you very much for reading my story. Leave me a review and let me know your opinion. Sometimes I wonder so much about the origins of some characters that I just let my imagination fly. I took some liberties with the origins of the war in Cybertron and the raise of the Decepticons. This story is about a creator and his creation, and I didn't want to focus in political references._


	6. Chapter 6

_Author´s notes: Thanks to everybody who is reading this story. This is the longest fic I´ve ever written and there are still some chapters to come. I´m already typing them, dreaming them, and enjoying them. All my gratitude to my sis KayDee Blu, who is my beta reader._

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Recharge mode.

In theory, it was the ultimate state of rest a Cybertronian could reach.

But recharge was much more than mere energy recovering. It was a place of intimacy where time was instantaneous as well as eternal. It was also the moment where reality could be cheated and one lonely spark could believe happiness was timeless, and if war and luck allowed, that the ultimate utopia had been reached.

Cranker's optics blinked four times before coming back on line. The dimmed light around his recharge berth welcomed him with benevolence.

For the first time in countless millenniums, he felt good. The permanent burden of depression seemed to be finally giving him a rest. And with the new inner circuitry Thundercracker had installed in him, a revitalized energetic sensation bounced everywhere within.

The old mech got up from the recharge berth and walked slowly toward the open door. The familiar sight of the dwelling's main room awaited him. So many times – the empty chairs, the table, the imaging screen on the wall – so many times the view had been the same… a mute witness to his never ending loneliness.

But that sad routine didn't exist at that moment. And as Cranker's optics followed the weakness of the lamp illuminating the tall, slender figure before him, the formerly barren space he had known for so long was now filled with a living memory of a very distant happiness.

On the resting structure, lying on his back, was Thundercracker, optics shut, his hands underneath the back of his head like a cushion. Exhaustion had finally given way it seemed. There was a tranquil peacefulness set on his face with the dimmed light creating subtle shadows over his blue and grey silhouette.

And it was that pacified expression Cranker was drawn to. He couldn't help it. When was the last time Steelcrank had that kind of tranquility reflected on his face? He didn't know… couldn't remember the exact moment in which innocence had been destroyed… only that his beloved creation had spent millions of cycles surrounded by death and destruction.

A weak sound caught his attention. Thundercracker had moved. Even though being deeply submerged in recharge mode, he seemed uncomfortable. Obviously the resting structure wasn't made to support a Cybertronian with wings.

Instinctive naturalness took over Cranker then. He paced toward Thundercracker, attempting to make him more comfortable. Being very careful, the old mech diligently tried his best at having his creation's wings fit into the tight space a little better. Hearing the peaceful mech exhale softly, Cranker hesitated. His hand was inches away from his creation's face. His trembling fingers approached but barely grazed the light grey cheek of the Seeker. Shaking his head, the older Autobot stepped back and sat down on a nearby chair.

The late night was very quiet this particular cycle. Very few noises came from outside, creating a masquerade of how a normal Cybertronian dwelling lived before the war.

So Cranker pretended.

He pretended there was no war… that all the countless years of sorrow hadn't happened… that the two purple insignias in front him didn't exist… that nothing else was real... only his creation and him...

But pain was always too heavy to stand. And blindness only shielded one for so long, no matter how much Cranker wanted to believe otherwise.

Memories of innocence and laugher crept over the greenish grey Autobot. Happy scenes of times long past replayed their images vividly. It was almost too difficult to even believe; the once precocious sparkling who once held every inch of his spark now lay in front of him, his existence worn with filth of war… of destruction… and treason.

All the madness that had made his creation grow up too quickly.

It was the ultimate sin of war – stripping an unsuspecting trust and remolding it into an obedient and efficient instrument of predatory survival, to kill..._  
_

How could the spark created from Cranker's own hold so much callous brutality?

The old mech buried his head in his hands. So many thoughts… so many painful concepts destroyed his momentary zone of ease and tranquility, returning him abruptly to the reality at hand. The mech lying in front of him was a Decepticon, one of their most dangerous soldiers, one that upheld oppression and tyranny… one that had taken so many Autobot lives.

Steelcrank was right. He had changed. The young unstable rebel was no more. But Cranker would've done anything to have that rebel back. What cruel jokes life played.

Giving a last sad glance toward the being who once gave absolute purpose to a mech's existence, Cranker stood up and slowly headed to a room in the back, his heavy steps echoing their conflicted denial all around.

* * *

Thundercracker activated his optics to the partial darkness around him. Everything was the same as when he entered recharge. Not a single noise, no strange energy signals, nothing. Just the same old Cybertronian silence.

But the Decpticon had spent most of his life on the battlefield. He knew better. His suspicions awoke before his consciousness did bringing out the warrior within. Even before the barely audible noises registered through him, he felt them.

And just as he stood up, a dozen or so fog bombs shattered the windows. The door exploded open as and entire command of armed Autobots barged in. Thundercracker silently cursed himself remembering his arm cannons still lying on the floor next to the cleaning tub. He was defenseless.

Three Autobots attacked him. Throwing a trio of brutal punches back, Thundercracker rejected them. He heard laser fire and then an unmistakable and intense pain burned his chest and shoulder area.

Severely outnumbered and defenseless, the only hope left was the sky. As enemy fire hit him again, Thundercracker transformed, bursting furiously through the ceiling above only to be met outside by a storm of deadly beams. Among the chaos, a missile reached its target and hit one of his engines. He began to lose altitude.

Trying to remain in flight, Thundercracker relied on his last resource. Concentrating all energy left into releasing a full power sonic boom, he stopped when the vision of Cranker, hunched behind a line of Autobot soldiers, made the energon within stop circulating.

With his optics glued to the figure that had caught his attention, he couldn't avoid it. The second missile impacted the lower part of his fuselage, bringing him to the ground. Knowing how crashing in alt mode would be fatal, Thundercracker quickly transformed, landing on his feet, the direct hit making him collide into an abandoned energy generator in the street.

Confusion… madness… screams everywhere…

The pain… there didn't need to be a status scan run to know that standing was out of the question.

And then they came. _Arms_. He didn't know how many. He couldn't count them. He just knew there were too many. Hands grabbing him, extremities brutally carrying out their physical attack, hitting his chest and face. Among the chaos, he could clearly hear the shattering of his cockpit being smashed into hundreds of little pieces.

Unconsciousness was taking over, but Thundercracker vehemently rejected it. He couldn't afford to die before finding that last redemption he had waited for so long. He needed it.

* * *

Cranker turned his head away, unable to watch what was happening. He had stopped thinking, only feeling a desperate, urgent need to disappear… evaporate...

It had been an inner voice he had repeated to himself over and over, the same justified speech. The welfare of his kind and his home world was above any sentimental caprice. Why those firm beliefs were not working in tandem presently, he didn't know, only that the pain taking over him was failing to find any type of consolation to be held true.

And as the second missile struck the blue and grey Decepticon before him, he shut his optics off. He just couldn't watch it.

But Cranker heard.

The lethal, gruesome sound of torturous suffering, the sound only a destructive weapon could produce as it destroyed circuits… the circuits of Steelcrank… _his Steelcrank_.

Cranker staggered, feeling the painful desperation of his creation. Guilt hit the old mech with devastating strength. Time had run its course, and now it was his turn to play the treason game… to do the backstabbing.

The old Autobot raised his head. His optics focused on the group of soldiers who were beating without mercy the blue and grey body he had built with his own hands. With a speed that was beyond his deteriorated condition, Cranker reached a green Autobot officer who was standing close to the scene.

"Stop!! Don't hurt him! You promised you wouldn't harm him!" he cried in desperation.

The Autobot turned to glance at Cranker and stayed emotionless for a moment. Then, he waved his hand to his lieutenant.

"Secure him and take him to the base."

With the order transmitted, the soldiers stopped punishing their defenseless prisoner who was already unconscious.

_To be continued._

* * *

_A/N: Is there such thing as treason inside a family? Or does it have another name? The place for loyalty has to do with bonds, with beliefs, with ambitions. What´s left for the feelings? Transformers are not that different from us, after all._


	7. Chapter 7

_Author´s notes: __Writing this story has been a pleasure. I had the general idea in my mind but as I wrote it I discovered a side of Thundercracker that fascinated me. I shouldn't say it, but this chapter has been my favorite until now. A big hug to my sis KayDee Blu, who has been the beta reader of this story.  
_

* * *

**Chapter 7**

"_Little Crank, little Crank…"_

"_You're my pride, little Crank…"_

Thundercracker was dragged harshly from the dominions of oblivion by a strong, abrupt spasm.

His return to consciousness couldn't have been more disagreeable. Hundreds_… _thousandsof brutal gashes invaded his body, each one more painful than the previous.

He couldn't see. Perhaps the brutal punishment he'd received had blinded him permanently. Darkness was more than a possibility. He vaguely remembered being hit in the head countless times.

But the mindless logic of his self repair systems continued its effort at returning consciousness to his beaten body.

Slowly, it began to return. Confusing gamma colors permeated the out of focus vision that had been so savagely taken. A reflecting panel appearing on one of the walls in front of the captive Decepticon revealed startling damage: right optic shattered. For the first time in thousands of years, the instinctive vanity every Seeker possessed appeared as Thundercracker shamefully realized how ruined he looked.

But from the over loaded amount of statistical data running through his logics, Thundercracker didn't have time to lament very long over the precarious state of his visual circuits.

His internal status system displayed an extensive list of injuries sustained from the attack by enemy hands. With his mind still numb, Thundercracker tried concentrating on the obvious: both engines destroyed, one wing ripped in half, chest plate partially destroyed, energon levels at fifteen percent…

He didn't want to know more. Instinctively, Thundercracker tried shaking his head with pessimism, but couldn't. Something cold and heavy was retraining his neck.

Shackles.

Heavy and tight, around his arms, legs, middle area, neck… everywhere. Thundercracker couldn't tell where the origin of the pain stemmed from - the burning wounds all over his structure or the oppressive penetrating weight of the shackles pinning him to the wall. It was undeterminable.

Only his fingers were able to stretch with relative freedom. For some bizarre reason associated with his present situation, he found that simple action fascinating. Never before had he examined so carefully the delicate circuitry that allowed his finger components to move with so much precision. Suddenly, their flexible esthetic appearance became a motive of pride… until alarmingly discovering three of them were broken.

His mouth twisted a weak smile as he realized ironically he couldn't feel the pain in his fingers because the suffering throughout the rest of his body was too overwhelming. Why that was funny, he didn't know.

Within the next few minutes his consciousness managed to surface completely, the confusion in his CPU evaporating. It was then Thundercracker realized the full ramifications of his predicament… he was a prisoner.

All trace of ironic smiles and amused fascination toward his fingers suddenly left. Thundercracker shook his body violently, only moving a few inches but making a furious noise never the less.

The sound of calm steps approaching showed his motor impulse efforts had been heard.

A tall black and white figure stood outside the cell that kept the Seeker captive. Thundercracker made a contempt grimace when he saw the visitor.

"I see you're finally awake," Prowl said, his expression emotionless.

Thundercracker turned his glance aside. Of all the Autobots, it had to be this one to witness his humiliation.

"I deeply lament the brutality of your capture," Prowl continued.

The Autobot wasn't surprised by his enemy's silence. Despite the circumstances the current situation was generating, Thundercracker had always been a Decepticon of very few words.

"I was sent by Optimus Prime to supervise your trial before the Supreme Council of Iacon."

Thundercracker lifted his optics and looked deeply at Prowl. By ironic coincidence, his train of thoughts were very similar to his enemy's. Despite all the millions of years fighting against him, Thundercracker realized this was the first time he had ever heard the Autbot second in command speak so many words in a row.

"Thundercracker, it's my duty to inform you of all the details pertaining to your upcoming trial…"

"Save it, Prowl. Just leave_,"_ Thundercracker finally spoke, a clear tone of hatred in his voice. "I prefer to spend my last hours in absolute solitude."

Prowl hesitated. He disliked deeply leaving a task unfulfilled. Informing a prisoner the procedures of their trial was a rigid Autobot Code of Law. However, the shattered appearance of the Decepticon was disturbing to contemplate. The blue and grey mechanoid was the pure image of defeat. And the Second in Command understood as to why.

The circumstances surrounding Thundercrack'er capture was nothing short of amazing - a capture that had, invariably, led to an open door within the Decepticon's past – something Prowl would've never imagined as being true for that particularly dangerous Seeker. Perhaps, ifthings would have been slightly different, Thundercracker would've made and outstanding Autobot warrior… as he had meant to be...

It was that very peculiar feeling and undeniable respect taking shape which lead Prowl to retire without saying another word.

* * *

More than two hours passed. Nothing disturbed the Decepticon's loneliness. Apparently Prowl had given the respectful orders of privacy after all, although Thundercracker was sure hidden cameras were observing his every move. But he didn't care. That was the last thing in his thoughts.

Not that his fate to come was a top thinking priority either. Cybertronian laws were very rigid long before the war. High treason had only one punishment: total deactivation. But the consideration toward a looming death was insignificant. Everything was Cranker. Cranker and his treason.

Treason.

The word had evolved completely. Thundercracker repeated it once again. It was so strange… the meaning so far removed. Only hurt and remorse provided a douse of sense.

Hadn't he been the one to betray his creator first? He didn't know. He refused to admit it_._ The question showed its fangs with ferocity, striking him mercilessly for the first time in nine million years.

Thundercracker dimmed his optics. He had been selfish; that much he could admit. Every gallant idea, greed tinged ambition and lustful desire had always ruled over him. He just never stopped to consider it all; his decisions and the wounds they would open in his creator. It had always been so easy to let selfishness have its way and be done with it.

But the moment for facing his mistakes had arrived. There wouldn't be another second chance. He had very few cycles of life left, perhaps not even that.

Captivity was painful and heavy. He never thought it could be like this. All times Skywarp and he had poked fun about it, imagining how being an Autobot prisoner would go… nothing of those ironic and dark situations they pictured compared to this.

It was more than the lack of freedom, or the confinement making his claustrophobia insane. It wasn't even the proximity of death.

It was the sadness.

So many things would never be anymore… flying… talking with Skywarp… youthful realized ambitions. All of them - all those dreams of conquering and might – were meaningless now.

Now only one burden weighed on Thundercracker's spark, shredding it to pieces. Desperation took over him as he realized that loving, joyful voice… the first memory of his created life, the same voice he had killed in his logics so long ago, would never be heard again.

War was merciless, destroying families, dividing and throwing it into opposite extremes of the line. But Thundercracker wondered how much of that destructive damage had been his own doing. Have his ambitions made him weak… cruel?

"Little Crank…"

The voice came as a saviour, the answer he was looking for.

Thundercracker trembled in surprise. He hadn't heard the steps, he didn't feel any presence. He raised his sore head as his optics found his creator's.

* * *

Cranker beheld his chained creation with infinite sadness. Anguish oppressed his spark as he saw the hopeless expression on Thundercracker's face.

Creator and creation glanced at each other in silence, treason hanging heavily between them.

"I had to do it, Steelcrank…" muttered Cranker as he approached the cell.

He hadto? Treason, loyalty… they changed disguises but at the end they always returned to the same bare and painful form. Suddenly, the insanities of war were very clear for Thundercracker.

But he was too angry, too deceived… His reasoning wasn't logic enough. He couldn't control his emotions anymore. Only one thought came into his mind at that moment: his death would come from his creator's hand.

"How much?" he said, not even trying to keep the hatred out of his voice.

Cranker blinked his optics in confusion. "What?" he replied blankly.

"You said my head had an elevated price. How much did they give you?" Thundercracker spat brutally.

"I… I didn't accept anything…"

"Why not? You fulfilled your duty, didn't you… Autobot?"

Even Thundercracker was surprised at the rancor in his voice, but he couldn't suppress it.

Cranker bowed his head. "You could never understand. I did it to save you…"

"Save me?! Save me?!_" _Thundercracker shouted at the top of his vocalizer. "You've condemned me, that's what you did! How dare you talk to me about salvation? Should I thank you for giving me a last lesson or is it a parental right to take the life you gave to me in the first place?"

Cranker stepped back, unable to stand the brutality lashing out. Deeply anchored hurt sheltered every cold, cruel word his creation spat. Seemingly endless minutes of silence prevailed then. Cranker held his face down, wanting to hide the guilt ridden affliction written on him.

"You never told me," Cranker spoke icily.

Thundercracker's body still shook with hurtful rage. "What?" he spat furiously.

"You never told me how many Cybertronians you have killed, Thundercracker."

The Seeker shivered in complete shock, astonished by his creator addressing him by his Decepticon name. All rage vanished. Everything left was fear and the urgent need for forgiveness.

"I'm waiting for your answer," Cranker continued, his voice stronger.

"I don't know… I couldn't know…" muttered Thundercracker defeated.

Cranker sighed, his face returned to the dominions of sadness. "They were too many, then. And even with that, you wonder why I turned you in?"

Thundercracker fixated his glaze onto the floor. He wished the beating sustained had blinded him.

Cranker approached until only a few inches separated him from the energon bars.

"It doesn't have to be this way. They… they won't terminate you if… if you declare yourself guilty… if you ask for mercy…"

Thundercracker lifted his head, his face gravely harsh.

"I'llnever beg!"

Cranker shook his head. "I see your blindness persists… Where is your glory now? Where is that fate of greatness you mentioned the day your transformation began into the shameful piece of a mechanoid you are now?"

Thundercracker bowed his head. He remembered. For a moment, the memory of that day in which he left his creator to follow his ambitions became astoundingly clear in his mind.

"All hope is lost, I see…" muttered Cranker, glancing sadly at the floor.

The old Autobot started to retreat. Thundercracker watched him through the corner of his only good optic. He wanted to run after him, beg him to stay. But the claims for forgiveness were unjustly sabotaged by floating convictions unable to materialize in the Seeker's vocalizer.

Suddenly he was a sparkling again. War had never touched him. His sins were his own to blame.

Cranker had almost disappeared through the corridor when Thundercracker cried out in agony.

"_Father!"_

Cranker stopped and turned around abruptly.

"I want you to be there," Thundercracker's voice was flat, sterile.

"Where?"

"My execution…I want you to watch."

The words exceeded viciousness. Cranker's spark was teared apart, like a pivoting scythe slashing every circuit into bits. Thundercracker repented his words as soon as they were fully pronounced, but it was too late. His last act of hurt toward his creator was done.

Turning around, Cranker continued walking. It wasn't until he was out of his creation's sight did he collapse onto the floor, his face buried in his hands.

_To be continued._

* * *

_A/N: It takes a single action to kill, but just a thought to betray._


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's notes: Thank you __to everybody who have been following this story and for the wonderful reviews I've received, please keep giving me your feedback :o). I want to thank Arken Elf for the three illustrations she made for this fic. I was really touched by that detail. Not many people would do that for a complete stranger._

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Five grey fingers dragged along the wall. Metal against metal found each other sterilely, neither one more sensitive than the other.

Cranker wasn't conscious of his own physical structure; he couldn't even distinguish the floor beneath his feet. His steps were heading somewhere, but whatever lie ahead of him was blurry. There was a heavy burden resting on his shoulders. Emotional trauma was more damaging than any type of physical pain could ever inflict. And guilt… guilt was a monster.

_My execution… I want you to watch._

Justified arguments perpetrated Cranker's mind, justifications bearing nothing but futile attempts at denial. He staggered against the wall. A strong hand arrived out of nowhere and holded him up gently as spasms of guilt and weakness threatened to send him to the floor once again.

The old mechanoid lifted his head, optics meeting the serious and noble face of the Autobot's Second in Command.

Prowl didn't say a word. Anything to be said was useless. The shattered and defeated appearance of the Cybertronian before him spoke for itself.

"Is it really necessary…?" Cranker spoke, his voice weak.

Prowl's optics narrowed.

"To have him chained like that..." continued Cranker. "…like the worst of criminals...? The kid is so drained of energy he can't even stand by himself…"

Prowl could the feel the desperate sadness clinging in Cranker's voice. He tightened his grip, keeping the old Transformer steady on his feet.

"Unfortunately it's necessary, Cranker. Thundercracker is a very dangerous Decepticon. I have to follow protocol."

Cranker freed his arm. A renewed sensation of strength invaded him. Steelcrank… a dangerous Decepticon? Despite the Autobot propaganda from the past nine million years, a part of him still refused to associate his creation as the enemy.

"Soon he won't be dangerous anymore…" Cranker didn't make any effort at keeping the rancor out of his voice.

"That is completely out of my control," Prowl said, his increasing discomfort far beyond any ethical argument or sense of duty.

"What about his trial?" Cranker continued, his hoarse voice resembling his creation's.

"It will be fair."

"Fair? For you or for him?"

Prowl folded his arms across his chest. "Just fair. As you know, the probability of a termination sentence is very high. But I want you to know Optimus Prime is very interested in Thundercracker's case. If he cooperates with us and gives us information…"

"You're wasting your time. He won't tell you anything. Stubbornness has always been a part of our family, you know…" Cranker's face components were harsh. And for a moment his expression resembled Thundercracker's too much. There was no doubt the greenish grey Autobot before Prowl had been directly responsible for creating the Seeker in question.

"I did what I had to do for the welfare of my race," the old Autobot continued. "It doesn't make me feel proud. I'm an Autobot. I believe in the ideals of our kind, but this is the last thing I do for this slagging war!"

Prowl nodded slowly. "I understand and respect that."

Determined to continue on his way, Cranker turned around, caring nothing about his disrespectful gesture toward the Second in Command.

"Cranker…"

The elder mechanoid stopped when he heard the voice of the high ranking Autobot.

"You may not believe me, but this situation is very uncomfortable for me too. I would like to be able to do something for Thundercracker and you, but it's not in my hands."

Prowl's words were deeply firm. Was it possible? Did the strategist understand more than what his stoical posture was suggesting?

"I know," Cranker replied sharply. "Laws… they're even more rigid during a war, aren't they? And also more illogical."

Prowl didn't answer. Something close to shame beat inside his spark, disturbing the barriers of his cold tempered logic.

Cranker looked over his shoulder. "I've seen the horrors Decepticons are capable of, and I'm perfectly aware my Steelcrank has had his share in that carnage… but today I saw the kind of things _we_ are capable of… and in the end, we're not that different."

Without another other word, Cranker continued on his way, disappearing at the corridor's end.

Prowl watched in silence. He felt tempted to follow the old Autobot, but he restrained himself. Violating the intimate sadness of a parent's grief over losing their only creation just wasn't in his nature. He was sure Optimus Prime would approve his decision.

* * *

Inner Cybertronian circuitry was an entire micro universe of perfection, a complex system of endless communication pathways that connected every component. It was that supreme reign over the vital spark that provided all Transformers with the essence of life, the ability to feel and think as unique individuals.

Among all those wonderful characteristics, sense of tact was one of the most amazing. Pleasure and pain all made possible by millions of nervous terminals distributed through every inch of a Cybertronian's physical structure.

Somewhere, lost between consciousness and unconsciousness, a sentient mechanical being delighted himself on the pleasure received not even a few hours ago. But alert instinct – the one every warrior keeps even when recharging – threatened the peaceful zone of comfort his logics were resisting to leave.

Activating his optics, an intense world of colors exploded within Skywarp's over worked circuits. Hollowed silence filled every color palette surrounding him. But excited senses quickly cancelled out the dreaded quiet he detested more than any Autobot alive. The irregular metallic roof above… the flexibleness of the recharge berth he was lying on… optical perceptions maximized to the extreme.

Just how many high grade energon cubes had he drunk during the last cycle?

He didn't know. The desire for remembering such hasty pieced of data had exceeded him some time ago. Why waste logic circuits with cold statistics if he could get lost in the pleasant effects of a good overdose?

A mischievous smile formed on his lips. Two female mechanoids, one on each side, lay beside him.

He didn't remember their denominations, perhaps he hadn't even asked. Everything present in his memory had to do with physical sensations… those legs around him… anonymous bodies wrapped within his arms… his intimate energy interfacing with strangers he would probably never see again. But even with that, Skywarp had given in to them as if they were the very reason for his entire existence.

Not that femme seducing had ever been a problem Skywarp could readily say he knew about, even before the war. Catch them and release them, have their fuse joints disintegrating into hot melted alloy… that's how the game was played. Only now, it was easier than ever. Female Decepticons, neutrals, and even a few Autobots, all wanted their circuits rocked by a Seeker of the Decepticon Aerial Elite.

A quick check to his internal chronometer revealed the much less appreciated fact his off duty period soon would be over. In little more than a cycle or so, he and Thundercracker would be heading back to that flat planet called Earth, with its uncomfortable weather system and absence of Cybertronian females.

Thundercracker… Since their arrival on Cybertron, Skywarp hadn't had any contact with him. Anything his fellow Seeker was up to, no matter how important, didn't justify his lack of communication.

Deciding now was the perfect time for his best friend to join him in at least one good overdose of high grade, Skywarp activated the private frequency only he and Thundercracker shared. Static welcomed him through the commlink all three times he tried.

Skywarp frowned. Perhaps his wingmate was in recharge mode or maybe, like himself, was lost within the legs of some beauty.

The black Seeker smirked at the thought but couldn't manage to erase his preoccupation. After all, taking to a recharge berth with the first femme that crossed his path was not Thundercracker's style.

Skywarp checked his internal chronometer again. The hour was appropriate at going to his favorite tavern to delay the oncoming hangover till next cycle. About to get up from the huge recharge berth, he stopped. One of the femmes lying right beside him started to stir, her pleasured structure huddling against the Seeker's arm.

A lustful grin formed on Skywarp's face. The high grade energon could wait. Right now, much more satisfying actions needed attending to.

Holding the femme bot close, Skywarp proceeded to fulfill her proposition, wasting no time as he attached himself to her body. The femme, even with her optics still off, rested one hand on his chest and instinctually found his mouth.

* * *

Cranker entered the shattered dwelling that was now nothing more than a bunch of debris, the roof and windows completely destroyed. As he thought, the Empties had already been there to steal whatever still had some use.

Fortunately (mostly because the fragging thing was too heavy), the elongated resting structure Thundercracker had been previously lying on until his capture, was still in one piece. That was the destination the old Transformer rested his tired steps.

And as he sat, Cranker felt his left foot kick something underneath. He bent down and pulled the curious object out – a small metal sphere, the same metallic puzzle Steelcrank use to play with when he was a sparkling.

Anguished memories took over Cranker then. His fingers trembled.

How it managed to survive nine million years and the recent pillage was beyond him. Rotating it back and forth in his hands, the puzzle's tiny mechanisms inside of it allowed the toy to change form without hesitation.

Focusing on the task as if his own life depended on it – a patient contrast to the horrible desperation flooding inside – Cranker gripped the puzzle's weak structure as it came over him… quick… vivid… painful…

The touch of those beloved fingers, fingers he had built himself, fingers that had once enjoyed so many hours playing with that little sphere… when innocence still prevailed, when a young mind hadn't been corrupted by ambition and violence.

But what about himself? For so many millennia, he had denoted blame toward Steelcrank, but Cranker had forgotten his own rancor, his own hate.

He had changed too. He had become the toy of others and found nothing but pathetic shelter… shelter to mask the pain.

Because in the beginning, it had been too easy. Playing the victim was always easy. And finding comfort in remaining a victim was even easier.

Yes, it was comfortable to be alone, to pity himself, to lock himself inside wallowing sorrow. That choice had been made long ago, when the fear of being associated with a Decepticon kept him isolated from the exterior world… an isolation he himself had chosen to implement.

Cybertronian war was absurd, it always had been. Autobot… Decepticon… both were part of the same putrefaction, after all. Cranker had spent the entire war hating the Decepticons, blaming them for his creation's desertion, for his treason.

_My execution… I want you to watch… My execution…_

Cranker shook his head furiously. Livid visions of Steelcrank… defeated, chained, totally hopeless…

Every descent into hell has a moment of sanity. And Cranker had reached the clearing. Those brutal words weren't destroying him, no… it was something else, something much more cruel.

Treason…

Treason against his own creation.

The Autobot tightened his fists against his temples. The image of his longing son, standing on the threshold of his door only a couple of cycles ago, arrived in his logics. Between rejection and hate, it was still there… the urgent necessity to hug him. Yes, to hug his little Crank again…

The toy clicked into place suddenly. The old mechanoid lifted his face and glanced at the completed puzzle in agony. It was all too clear, all of it. He had been a tool too, an irrelevant accessory, another gear in the machine.

Cranker stood up, the puzzle still firmly being held in his hands.

He headed back into the recharge room, finding some old tools that had survived the pillage.

Slowly, the old mechanoid started carving off the ancient red insignias on his forearms.

Old red and grey paint fell to the floor, painful traces of everything that had once been.

_To be continued._

* * *

_A/N: Remorse is __a dangerous weapon._


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

War.

Deep wounds. Irreconcilable differences. Intolerable hatred. Common places for a conflict millions of years old where any kind of ethic frontier was no where to be had. The only conceivable resolution was the complete destruction of one or the other's faction.

However, Autobots and Decepticons had a place in which they became siblings: misery.

Outcasts living in Iacon mirrored those in Polyhex. The Decepticon Empire existed under an undefined army of anonymous faces, faces that would never become war heroes... second class Cybertronians, most of them neutrals, overcrowded in the marginal zones of a city that boasted its power as shrugged shoulders to its more miserable sons.

Among those forgotten streets of Polyhex walked Cranker, his gaze downward, but his senses alert to everything surrounding him. He knew exactly what would happen to an Autobot who'd dare penetrate the lawless insides of Polyhex. Death was certain; the method, however, was unknown. There were always new innovations when the art of pain and torture were concerned.

Despite being perfectly aware of the risks, Cranker had reached the dark side of the monster with no fear threatening his spark. Desperation could take a mechanoid to unsuspecting extremes and, to the old Cybertronian, any concern toward his own life ceased to exist.

His objective was clear: redemption. No longer was he an Autobot surrounded by countless enemies. He was a creator. And he would drag himself to the end of the universe looking for one last hope for his condemned creation, no matter what it took.

Cranker's steps seemed to wander, but they knew exactly where they were heading to. The Autobot had managed to cross Polyhex's borders with relative ease. Being one of the oldest Transformers alive had its advantages; war had very few surprises. Conditions were proper for an unkept and hunched over mech to lose himself among so many like him who had lost faith in the promises of greatness and supremacy so long ago.

As he walked by a dark alley, a violent symphony of brutal sounds snatched him from his thoughts.

Cranker looked aside and saw the bodies scattered on the ground. There were thirteen, and two more were being unmercifully thrown against the wall of a shattered building.

The executioners were only three. Their impressive and bright structures left clear they were first class soldiers, though their designs pointed to ground vehicles, a rarity among the Decepticon army, who preferred aerial units.

Just one of the strange trine was literally shredding the two unfortunate Empties. His mates were watching the scene with amusement, as if the bodies of the other Empties were not decorating the ground. One of the soldiers held a mischievous smirk on his face, while the other held a serious, absent expression.

The two shattered Empties joined their motionless companions. The Decepticon who victimized them burst into sadistic laughter. His smirking mate joined him. Only the third soldier, the serious one, didn't modify his stern facial expression. He seemed to be millions of light years away, though his optics didn't reflect any kind of disapproval toward the vicious act of murder that had just taken place before him.

It was a recurrent sight in Iacon too, although in the Autobot city a marginal mech would kill for survival, not fun. Decepticons, though, had given new meanings to a few concepts, their own moral code being brutally announced.

Cranker decided to continue walking before any of the three warriors noticed his presence and added him to their ghoulish trophy of destroyed Empties.

"Ah, slag you! Where is your sense of humor, Dead End?" one of them said as Cranker walked away.

The useless exhibition of brutality the ancient Autobot had just seen reminded him where he was heading to. Ultimate irony was what it was... his last hope centering on beings who supported violence and terminating lives so recklessly.

Cranker shook his head and got rid of those thoughts. Since the moment he had carved the Autobot insignias off his arms, all millernary ethic ideals were renounced. He was an outcast now, a homeless Cybertronian, even worst than those hungry Empties. For him, even the desire to live another cycle had vanished.

* * *

Cranker arrived to his destination, sheltered by the comfortable guise anonymity afforded, guided by the trail of youthful wildness his target had left behind.

The tavern wasn't different from others of its kind, except for the fact it was a little more deteriorated. The once luminous sign now pathetically only had two Cybertronian characters lit for announcing the existence of high grade energon.

However, the place must have been famous. The crowd of Empties and Decepticon soldiers trying to get in proved so.

Cranker clenched his fists, submerging into the sea of purple insignias waiting as well. His determination didn't hesitate, but he couldn't help feeling a notorious wave of repugnance flowing through his circuits as he made physical contact with the traitors he had hated for almost nine million years.

He had almost reached the entrance door when a strong hand closed brusquely around his arm.

"Where do you think you're going, junk pile? This is an exclusive club, don't you know?" a huge black and brown robot said, pushing Cranker away.

Ferocious laughs welcomed the old mechanoid as his knees hit the ground. However, his optics were very far away at showing fear or humiliation.

"Let me in! I have to get in!" he cried, his face deformed by an anguish he wasn't able to control anymore.

The guardian ignored him and returned his attention to the group of noisy soldiers trying to negotiate their entrance into the tavern.

Cranker dimmed his optics and strongly bit his lips components. Increasing fury helped him to pounce again toward the entrance. This time, the guard stopped him, grabbing him by the neck and slamming him toward the wall.

"What part of NO don't your processors understand? This place is for Decepticons only, not rusted Empties like you!" the black and brown mechanoid barked.

Cranker held the arm that was pinning him to the wall with desperation.

"I have to talk to the Seeker Skywarp immediately! I know he's here!" he cried in agony.

The guardian's optics dimmed suspiciously. "You mean First Class Captain Skywarp, Elite Seeker series N-1?"

"It's urgent! Tell him Thundercracker needs him!"

The black Transformer stared at Cranker with a malicious smirk. "Sure, I'll tell him. Would you like for me to inform him Supreme Commander Megatron requires his presence as well?"

"I'm not joking, you slagging Decepticon!"

A new slam against the wall followed Cranker's remark. "I've never seen you around here before! Maybe you're one of those Autobot spies…"

Mocking scoff from the soldiers witnessing the scene immediately turned into grimaces of contempt at the very pronouciation of that hated word. Anything even remotelysmelling like an Autobot always triggered a good excuse for inflicting pain onto a member of an enemy faction.

Relentessly, Cranker fought to free himself of the guardian's harsh grip. Anger was now frustration. Becoming a victim of a useless and fatal lynching was not a status achievement he was willing to accept, not now.

Notorious agitation rose then. Rapidly, the soldiers dispersed, making way for the massive approaching Decepticon, another warrior of smaller height following next to him.

"What is going on here?" the huge grey mechanoid demanded.

The guard let Cranker fall to the ground and made a military salute. "Gestalt leader Motormaster, it's an honor…"

The Stunticon Commander glanced at the fallen mechanoid at his feet.

"Who the slag is this trash pile?" he roared.

"I think he's an Autobot, sir. His behavior is very suspicious. He tried to get in... he asked for Captain Skywarp…"

"Skywarp? Is he here? Oh, slag me!" Motormaster's companion scowled.

"Silence, Drag Strip!" ordered Motormaster, returning his attention to Cranker. "So... you're looking for Skywarp? What for?"

Cranker stood up laboriously. "It's Thundercracker… he was captured by the Autobot Council… they're going to execute him…"

The Stunticon leader frowned. "What nonsense are you talking about, old junk? If something like that had happened, our intelligence system would already know."

Cranker's desperation quickly evolved into sharp contempt. "Perhaps your intelligencesystem is an insult to the word itself…"

Motormaster advanced threateningly toward Cranker, a killer glare shinning in his optics.

"I'm telling you the truth! The Autobots are handling the capture as top secret!" Cranker hurriedly continued.

Motormaster remained motionless for a moment and then looked over his shoulder. "Drag Strip, grab this piece of junk and follow me."

The addressed Stunticon made a grimace of disgust but obeyed his leader's order. Without any kind of delicacy he yanked Cranker by the arm and dragged him inside the tavern.

* * *

A disorganized mixture of sounds hit Cranker's audios as he was forced into the dim lights of the tavern.

He hadn't been in such a place for millions of years. High grade energon had never been one of his faves, and even less favorable on the list were the popular places it was sold at.

Cranker had always been a loner. And in that moment, as he was being dragged toward an uncertain fate, a sad smile formed on his face as he realized Thundercracker had inherited more of his spark that what had originally seemed like.

The tavern was full of Decepticons, mostly cadets and second class soldiers. There was also a good amount of female Cybertronians too. Some of them had arrived in search of pleasure; others to sell it. To waste any kind of physical delight in times of war was simply unconceivable. High grade and seduction flew with freedom. Every soldier tacitly agreed to leave war behind when priorities of drunkenness and soft femme caresses were involved.

Skywarp's presence was announced by the notorious gibberish around him. The presumptuous Seeker sat at the end of the tavern. A delicate green female neutral was placidly using his legs as a seat, her arms hugging him around the neck, his one arm around her waist. With his free arm, he continued struggling with the bulky Decepticon sitting across from him, who was making big efforts toward not having his arm being bent over the table.

With an abrupt and violent movement, Skywarp tossed his rival to the floor and claimed victory for the small exhibition of strength.

Cheers and toasts were heard generously, the winner recieving a prompt kiss from the femme and a full cube of energon from an admirer.

"What was the name again, sir?" asked a soldier as he helped his defeated companion get up.

"Arm wrestling, it's a common practice between humans," replied Skywarp, placing his cube, already half empty, onto the table. It was a good change being surrounded by so many inexperienced soldiers that looked at him with so much admiration. Definitely being an elite warrior of Megatron's personal army had its rewards.

Motormaster watched the scene with disdainful curiosity, making his way toward the Seeker, roughly pushing through his group of admirers, Drag Strip at his side. The soldiers stepped back immediately as the two elite warriors stood face to face.

"Showing off, Skywarp, as always? Why doesn't that surprise me?" the Stunticon leader said, his imposing presence catching the attention of the rookie Decepticons.

Skywarp frowned seeing the two newcomers. He had never hid his deep dislike toward the Stunticons. He considered them no more than a bunch of sparklings, aggressive as they were useless.

"What are you doing here?" asked Skywarp, contempt clear in his voice.

"You're not the only one who's off duty, superstar," was the Gestalt Commander's rude answer.

"Who is that?" Skywarp stared at the deteriorated Transformer Drag Strip was restraining.

"I'm hoping you'll enlighten us with your wisdom. He said he's a friend of yours," Motormaster replied.

Skywarp stared carefully at Cranker but he had no memory of such mechanoid.

The sudden silence was the opportunity the old Autobot had been waiting for.

"Thundercracker…" he pleaded.

The black and purple Seeker was startled by the desperation his best friend's name had been said with. "What about him?"

"He needs your help… Please, I need to talk to you!"

Suspicious motives crowded Skywarp's mind. It had to be a trick_._ But the deteriorated aspect of that Cybertronian confused him. Deep reflexive behavior was not the Seeker's forte and, as always, he decided to trust in his primary instincts. Since arriving on Cybertron, nothing had been heard from Thundercracker, and the low anxiety level Skywarp had felt was now replaced with full blown worry.

Saying something in a very low voice to the femme sitting on his lap, she reluctantly stood up, watching as the Seeker nodded toward Motormaster. Both Decepticons headed to a closed door. Drag Strip followed, dragging Cranker roughly behind.

* * *

_Author´s notes: Feedback is very appreciated. This entire fic is being beta read by my sis KayDee Blu. SAHS! _


	10. Chapter 10

_Author´s notes: Thanks guys, for reading my story and for your reviews. I love to receive feedback :o) I´m enjoying holidays so I updated faster than I use to. Is there anything better than writing fanfiction from the comfort of your own bed? _

_Thanks for beta reading my stuff, sista KayDee Blu._

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Skywarp paced nervously between the energy generator and the closed door.

"How much longer are you planning to do that? You're starting to scratch the slagging floor!" Motormaster complained.

Skywarp stopped, more for the urgency of trying to pull himself together than any kind of polite consideration toward the Stunticon. He leaned against the wall, clenching his fists frantically. The mess inside his mind was doing very little to help ease the situation any.

Motormaster watched the Seeker's predicament with an evil smirk. The anguish of others had always been a reliable source of sick amusement to him.

"So, what are you going to do to help your dear friend, Skywarp?" continued the Stunticon leader, bare sarcasm exposed in his voice.

"I'm trying to think, Motormaster!" was the disorganized answer.

The nasty scoff heard from the other end of the room increased the tension on the black jet's face. Having paid careful attention with no less fun than his commander, Drag Strip stood up from the energy generator he had been sitting on and approached both Decepticons.

"There's nothing to think about. It's not our problem, Moto. We only have two cycles off duty and I don't plan to spend them hearing this Seeker whine!"

Skywarp's optics blazed deadly crimson beams. Under other circumstances, he would've happily embedded his fist into the middle of the Stunticon's visor, but at the moment, there were far more important priorities.

"Shouldn't you be watching that Empty, Drag Strip?" Skywarp shot back, his anger more than obvious.

The Stunticon glanced to a closed door on the opposite end of the room. "That junk pile can barely stand! Where's he gonna go? That storage unit is locked!"

Skywarp ignored Drag Strip and folded his arms across his chest. For the first time in many vorns the latent threat of desperation seeped through him.

"You didn't answer my question. What are you going to do? When are you going to inform Megatron?" The smile on Motormaster's face components became wider.

Skywarp didn't reply. Contacting Earth Headquarters was definitely not in his plans. Even though Thundercracker was one of the Decepticon Aerial Elite's top lieutenants, rescuing a single soldier deep within enemy territory would never win favor with Megatron. The politics and constant scheming of the High Command were beyond the black Seeker's understanding, not to mention he preferred staying as far away as possible from it all.

His first thought had been focused on Starscream. But Skywarp knew perfectly well the Air Commander wouldn't lift a finger for Thundercracker. The same went for Shockwave, who wouldn't blink his only optic without Megatron's approval.

All alternatives were being drastically reduced. Only one solution remained.

"We'll have to rescue him ourselves," Skywarp concluded finally, his voice sharp and serious.

"Us?" Drag Strip snickered. "Did I miss something? Who died and named you leader, you buffoon?"

The Stunticon glanced at his leader for support but Motormaster remained smugly silent.

"This is Thundercracker's problem! If he was stupid enough to let those Autobots capture him, it's none of our business! As far as I'm concerned, he's history!"

Skywarp stepped toward Drag Strip with a murderous shine in his optics. "None of your business, you said? Aren't you a Decepticon, you slagging idiot?"

The answer came from the cold voice of Motormaster. "We are Stunticons."

Skywarp faced the big grey mechanoid. "And what are the Stunticons but Decepticons? Where is your loyalty?"

Antagonizing contempt unveiled itself then. "We serve Megatron because he created us. Seekers are nothing more than dispensable flying accessories," Motormaster stated coldly.

Rage circled through Skywarp's spark. Dispensable flying accessories? Since when did mechs who favorably adopted earthling habits - using their verbal slang, being proud about the fact they had been created from Earth vehicles - get off calling anyone dispensable?

Sparklings were all they were… not even real Decepticons at that… just young defectiveimitations of Cybertronians whose lives didn't even exceed two terrestrial years. And although their brutality had proven effective enough, it still was nothing more than, in Skywarp's opinion, a fake appearance of maturity.

Nevertheless, the Stunticons' youth also left open doors and advantages – advantages that needed manipulating.

"Accessories are useful, Motormaster, which is much more that could be said about you," Skywarp said, laying the bait. "Since your creation, your only claim to fame has been causing painful defeats from your incompetence and complete failure to work as an organized team."

The little antic worked. Motormaster's smile vanished, his face turning into maddening fury.

"You will shut that trap hole you have as a mouth, Skywarp, or so help me I will..."

This time, it was the Seeker who smiled with something more than superiority. "Nothing is more painful than the truth, is it Moto?" mocked Skywarp. To call the Stunticon leader by the nickname only used by his fellow gestalt mates proved to be a successful choice. The anger shining in his optics proved so.

Savoring his victory, Skywarp continued. "Don't even waste your time, Moto. You're too slow for me!"

The Seeker accompanied his words with actions. A violet beam of light welcomed Motormaster's gargantuan fist impacting the wall brutally.

Reappearing directly behind Drag Strip, Skywarp violently shoved him, making the yellow Tyrell collapse against his leader.

"You're nothing more than a bad joke, Motormaster! Why don't we continue this when you form Menasor? I like to fight rivals on equal conditions, you know…"

Motormaster roughly pushed Drag Strip aside and pounced on Skywarp.

"Stop teleporting like a coward and fight!" he roared.

Skywarp manifested his answer again with an empty space. Drag Strip barely noticed the shinning light reappearing in front of him. His attention was absorbed by the fist crashing painfully against his face, throwing him to the floor.

Making good use of the Seeker's distraction, Motormaster charged after him. This time though, Skywarp didn't avoid the attack. What good was a healthy dispute if it was solved in an astroclick with a laser beam? Decent hand to hand combat was knowing you had the advantage to end it violently and quickly. Exceptional combat was using your advantage into violently prolonging an opponent's demise slowly and painfully.

Motormaster held Skywarp by the shoulders, pinning his body against the wall. The Seeker gave no signal of pain, counterattacking by slamming his fist into the facial components of the Stunticon leader. Knowing he didn't posses the massive strength of his rival, Skywarp decided on another tactic: sharpness of words.

"Your anger only shows your fear, Motormaster!" he said, stifling the disastrous urge to scream in pain as he was slammed against the wall for a second time, his wings receiving the most damaging part of the punishment.

"Fear? What the fuck are you talking about, you stupid Seeker?!" Motormaster yelled angrily, using the human curse word that had become a staple to the Stunticon's vocabulary.

"You're a coward, that's what I'm talking about! I've never bought that brutality mask you wear so proudly! You're more afraid of failure than the Autobots! Don't deny it you useless beast! You and your team of junk piles would be unable to carry on this rescue mission and you know it!"

Motormaster lifted Skywarp and threw him against the energy generator. The Seeker avoided the collision and landed agilely on his feet.

"We Stunticons know no fear!" roared the big grey robot.

"Prove it!" Skywarp defied.

Drag Strip, who had witnessed the fight from the floor, abruptly stood up and pounced on Skywarp. However, a brusque gesture from his leader stopped him.

Suddenly, all fury was gone from Motormaster's expression, leaving in its place a cold, purposeful glance.

"You talk too much," he said. His hatred assumed a tranquility scarier than any rage explosion.

"I just said the truth", Skywarp replied, whose voice had lost any trace of mockery.

Motormaster folded his arms across his chest and remained thoughtful for a moment. Once again, a quarrel between Decepticons had finished as abruptly as it had started and, just as so many others that had happened before, there was no winner or loser. Sometimes the best way to deal with an uninterrupted war was to allow fists to punch freely among comrades.

"We'll help you," Motormaster finally announced.

Skywarp suppressed a satisfied boastful smile as Drag Strip stared at his leader with offended disbelief.

"What?! Are you insane, Moto?" he cried.

"My decision is made. Send an encrypted message to Breakdown, Dead End and Wildrider, summoning them... they must be near."

Drag Strip growled something unintelligible but obeyed the order.

Half managing to walk toward Motormaster without revealing the pain still burning on his wings, Skywarp sighed. The violent tension between both Decepticons had vanished.

"I suppose gratitude is unnecessary," the Seeker said.

"Your assumption is correct."

Skywarp turned around and headed toward the closed door at the end of the room.

"However…"

Motormaster's voice made him stop. He looked over his shoulder and saw the grey mechanoid smirking maliciously.

"I hope you're not thinking we're doing this for comradeship, are you Skywarp? Or, as you would say… for loyalty?

Skywarp dimmed his optics. He should've known better. There was no such thing as a complete victory.

"What do you want, Motormaster?" was the cold answer.

His smile huge, the Stunticon leader advanced toward Skywarp and hugged him by the shoulders.

"I wouldn't risk the lives of my Stunticons for nothing…" he rhetorically continued.

_You slagging traitor! _Skywarp had to make an effort at stopping from shaking that hypocrite arm off him.

"I said, what is that you want?" he repeated.

"I'm glad you asked. As you probably have noticed, my boys get… bored easily, and they tend to lose control."

_Have they ever had control in the first place? Tell me something I don't know, you filthy piece of terrestrial junk!_ "So? You want me to tell them stories before their recharge cycles?"

Motormaster burst into heaps of laughter. "You really never do lose the ability to amuse me! But seriously, I was thinking about something different…"

Leaning in toward Skywarp, the Stunticon proceeded to whisper something in his audios. The Seeker's optics widened in shock as he violently shoved Motormaster backward.

"Punching bag!" he repeated, not even fully comprehending what he just heard.

"Was there a part of the phrase you didn't understand?" the gestalt leader asked with sugary innocence.

Punching bag... an Earth component to a very slow and soft activity when compared to the ferocious excitement the gladiator fights of ancient Cybertron produced. And while he didn't exactly command the Stunticon's annoying human culture knowledge, Skywarp knew exactly what a punching bag was. It was one of the few (if only) amusing aspects humans did, the contact sport known as boxing serving as an entertaining enough venue, considering. But like most other things, its amusing hold soon turned into boredom.

"But…" he hesitantly started saying.

"All you have to do is stay still as we hit you, no big deal," interrupted Motormaster.

"If you want to crush something so slagging bad, why don't you practice your little games on the Combaticons? Or better yet, why don't you just go kidnap some Autobot and shred him to pieces?"

Motormaster growled disdainfully. "The Combaticons have serious problems of controlling their impulsiveness toward using firepower and the Autobots always hang out in groups. Besides, nothing would be more satisfying than kicking the living energon out of a presumptuous Seeker shit like you."

If there was anything Skywarp was grateful for, it was Motormaster's sincerity. The Stunticon leader never disguised his opinion and was always painfully straight.

"How do I know being your punching bag won't cause me permanent deactivation?" Skywarp asked, clenching his fists.

"You can't know."

The Seeker folded his arms across his chest and began drumming his fingers on his forearm. "And just how much time would our… arrangement… last?"

Motormaster's optics dimmed evilly. "That depends on you. How much is the life of your friend worth?"

Low hit, even for a Stunticon… Skywarp wasn't able to hide his angered grimace. Definitely, Motormaster was more intelligent than what he seemed to be.

"We have a deal..." the Seeker finally gave up. However, his optics glared defiantely. If he was going to become the Stunticon's punching bag, then that was all the satisfaction they were going to have.

Drag Strip, having finished sending the gathering message to his teammates, stood with open delight at witnessing the conversation that had just unfolded.

"Can I start breaking his head, Moto? He still owns me one!" he yelled excitedly.

Skywarp raised his arm rifles at the yellow Tyrell's face. "First thing's first, Stunticon. You'll have your chance to beat me as much as you want... once Thundercracker is safe."

Drag Strip let out a heated huff.

Skywarp lowered his weapons. "Now... let's interrogate that Empty piece of junk. He has a lot of explaining to do," he continued, heading toward the door.

Motormaster and Drag Strip followed swiftly behind without another word.

_To be continued._


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Time had never been so untouchable. Absent of all significance, unable to be measured in comprehensible terms, it went by painfully slow as Cranker tried dealing with his desperation.

Worried steps had been the attempted killer for the slow minute elapse spent pacing back and forth until the lack of balance in his legs finally made him stop. And while the shabby energon dispenser he had settled onto gave his frenzied feet a break, other bodily components were not quite sharing the stationary rest time as much.

Brutal finger traces could be seen in place of where his faded Autobot insignias used to be. His arms hurt horribly. The Decepticon who dragged him into that small storage unit had been rough, but in that moment, that very moment, Cranker was beyond pain.

Noises, then, outside. Steps, altered voices, punches and, suddenly, silence. Whatever was happening between those three Decepticons, Cranker wasn't sure, but one thing was known without a doubt: the fate of his only creation was being decided.

The Autobot dimmed his optics. Very powerful feelings were drilling his mind, but fear toward his own deactivation wasn't one of them. Leaving alive was, most likely, something that was notgoing to happen. But Cranker couldn't have cared less.

Tormenting images came back.

Steelcrank repairing him with so much carefulness, recharging again under his roof, being captured with brutal excesses, overwhelming chains of defeat, standing in the threshold of his door… the prodigal son coming back home.

Cranker shook his head. Feelings weren't as easily killed as memories could sometimes be. Decepticon or not, Steelcrank was his creation, brought to existence from his own spark. Everything would have been given for him. Everything.

And as Cranker had always seen it, even his own life. Perhaps offering it now would be the only possible redemption.

Confronting his atheism, he prayed to Primus… not with words or blind devotions but with encountered feelings of pain and regret. Suddenly, his pleads and silences were the same, the agonic waiting… over.

The unmistakable sound of a door hissing open grabbed Cranker from his thoughts then. He anxiously raised his head, seeing the three mechanoids who were his last hope, approaching. One of them, the one who had locked him in, had a deep dent on his ill-humored face. The big and rough Decepticon who seemed to be his leader, walked beside him, optics evilly shinning. But Cranker's attention was on the black and purple Seeker named Skywarp who so closely resembled his own creation.

Steelcrank must have been reformatted into that model of Seeker during his period at the Military Academy, no doubt. For some reason, Cranker wondered if Skywarp had had some sort of family once as well.

Instinct made the Autobot stand up, but Motormaster lifted a monstrous arm toward him.

"Stay where you are, slag pile." His powerful voice traveled deeply throughout the small room.

Cranker stepped back, quickly sitting down again on the energon dispenser. The shadows of the three Decepticons towered over him.

"There are things you still have to explain, Empty, so you better start talking," Skywarp said, stopping right in front Cranker, folding his arms across his chest.

"I already told you what you need to know…" The Autobot made an extreme effort to control himself, to not let anguish take over his emotions. "Thundercracker has been captured by the Iacon Civil Guard. He has been secured inside their headquarters. He will be judged… his sentence executed immediately… the Autobot Second in Command Prowl is in charge of the entire operation…"

"Prowl," Motormaster said to himself, delighted with devastating images involving the destruction of said Autobot.

"How do you know that, Empty? You said it yourself… his capture has been classified as top secret," Skywarp continued, optics narrowing in suspicion.

"I was there. I'm telling you the truth."

"You're an Autobot, then," the black Seeker affirmed, his voice cold.

Cranker nodded. Denying it would have been pointless. The ones standing before him were killers, enemies of his own kind, but he had already defeated fear in all its manifestations.

As soon as the hateful word was pronounced, Motormaster and Drag Strip's faces shifted into menacing grimaces. Only Skywarp seemed not surprised by the old mechanoid's confession. He knew it already.

"You are brave Autobot… or a fool," the Seeker continued. "Do you have any idea where you're standing right now?"

"I know who you are… what you are... I'm not afraid. I don't even hate you anymore."

Skywarp smirked. The old Autobot's attitude was amusing, even admirable_._

"Of course, we can't deny the possibility this is all a lie… a trap…" Motormaster intervened, his voice strangely soft for his rough face.

"This is no trap! For Thundercracker's sake, you have to believe me!" Cranker's tranquility collapsed when the only hope for his creation seemed endangered.

Skywarp narrowed his optics. "And why do you care about Thundercracker's welfare?"

Cranker hesitated. He bowed his head.

"I'm waiting for your answer, Autobot," the Seeker continued.

"I couldn't care more. I'm his creator."

Cranker's words were welcomed by an overwhelming silence. The intermittent humming of the electrical system half illuminating the storage unit in which the confession took place was the only sound heard.

Skywarp nodded slowly. He knew. He had known since the moment he recognized Thundercracker in the deep, reserved shine of Cranker's opaque blue optics. He didn't know much about his wingmate's past. He didn't know anything actually. Skywarp had always thought that, like himself, the blue and grey Seeker had been created by the military system. And now his best friend's origins were crashing violently against his face in the shape of a rusted Autobot.

"Wait… wait a second…" Drag Strip rambled, trying to understand what had just been admitted. "Does that mean Thundercracker was created… by an Autobot?" The Tyrell cackled manically. "I always knew that guy was weird! He's always so… decent!" he continued. "Just wait until the others hear about this! Oh, this is going to be the gossip subject of the century! Thundercracker, the Autobot in disguise!"

Cranker glanced furiously at Drag Strip, while at the same time feeling a satisfying relief. He realized then; some of his teachings still remained in his creation's personality, making him different than the rest of those brutal Decepticons.

"Nobody will know, Drag Strip!" Skywarp growled. "I don't need to specify that discretion concerning this information is part of our deal. If you Stunticons want to have your punching bag, you will keep your vocalizers shut!"

Skywarp glanced at Motormaster with furious determination. The Stunticon leader shot back a disdainful grimace. "Stop whining, Skywarp. As you uselessly said, it's part of our deal," the grey trailer calmly said, showing his fists - a dark premonition of what lay in store for the Seeker.

Skywarp tried not thinking about the future beatings waiting for him courtesy of those fists and the rest of the Stunticons.

"Trying to gain access into the Civil Guard Headquarters in Iacon is insane," he said, calculating dozens of possibilities. For a moment he wished the strategic abilities of Megatron or Starscream had been granted to him as well.

"And just what the fuck is the Civil Guard?" Drag Strip asked.

Skywarp frowned. As always, the Stunticon exposed his ignorance toward everything not having to do with speed and destruction.

"Don't you know anything, Drag Strip? The Autobots still maintain their ancient government systems in the cities they control on Cybertron," was the Seeker's disdainful reply. "The point is that we can't attack the Civil Guard Headquarters with being so heavily outnumbered."

Drag Strip scowled. "Aren't you a teleporter? Aren't you always saying how wonderful you are? That no place is impossible for your abilities to breach?"

"Teleporting in isn't the problem, you idiot… getting out is. We'll have to rescue Thundercracker when the Autobots take him to their Supreme Tribunal to be judged," Skywarp shot back.

"But we don't know when that will be or which route they'll even take. And of course, there's always the possibility the Autobots understand how stupid trials really are and have already executed Thundercracker," Motormaster happily said.

"Well, we will have that information soon, Motormaster. Tell me something, Autobot, what are your probabilities in gaining access to that data?" Skywarp asked, trying to ignore the Stunticon's remark.

"Very high. The Autobots don't suspect me."

Skywarp nodded. "Excellent. Then you will return to Iacon immediately. Do you have a commlink?"

Cranker shook his head.

"We'll install one for you then," Skywarp continued. "As soon as you have the information, you will transmit it through a private frequency only accessed by me. We'll be circling the probable area of attack until then. Is that clear?"

"Yes," the Autobot seriously replied.

"Hey, time out!" Drag Strip interrupted. "Are you saying you're going to let this Autobot go… that we're going to trust him?"

"Yes, Drag Strip, that's exactly what we are going to do. Trust him," the Seeker confirmed, his optics fixated on Cranker.

Drag Strip turned toward his leader. "Moto?"

The Stunticon commander showed his most cruel grin, ignoring his subordinate. "There are no limits for a regretful creator. How far are you willing to go in order to save your creation, Autobot? Would you kill your own kind?"

Cranker opened his mouth to reply but an abrupt buzz coming from Drag Strip's wrist interrupted him.

"It's Wildrider… he and the others have arrived," announced the Tyrell.

"Excellent. We will be waiting for you in the tavern, Skywarp. Don't delay with this Autobot slag," Motormaster commanded disdainfully.

Cranker waited until both Stunticons were gone. "Is it possible? Can you save him?" he asked.

"We will," Skywarp firmly answered.

"You… are Steelcrank's friend, aren't you? You will help him…"

_Steelcrank_.

The name sounded so strange to Skywarp. It reminded him how unpredictable destiny could really be. Maybe all it would have taken was a small circumstance for Thundercracker and him to have been mortal enemies. There were times in which the black Seeker couldn't understand the violent veers of a war that had become his life.

"I'm his friend indeed. You did the right thing coming to me," he hoarsely replied. "There will be plenty of time to talk later. I'll install the commlink and will fly you as close as possible to Polyhex's frontier as I can without looking suspicious. You will be on your own from there. Remember to come back here when your part is done, otherwise you will become a problem."

Cranker nodded. For some reason he had absolute trust in that Decepticon Seeker.

* * *

Prowl punched a code. The energy bars of the cell disappeared.

The Autobot Second in Command entered, carrying a half filled cube of energon.

Thundercracker didn't acknowledge his presence. He remained with his head bowed, gaze fixated vaguely somewhere on the floor.

"I thought you could use the fuel," Prowl said, carefully approaching the cube to Thundercracker´s face.

Silence. The Decepticon was conscious but remained absent toward his surroundings. His face had a defeated, empty expression.

"You've lost too much energy," Prowl insisted.

After more seconds of uncomfortable silence, a slight noise came from the prisoner. His shattered optic blinked three times before shutting off. Blindness had arrived finally. Unfortunately, the other optic was still functional enough to witness his humiliation.

"Is it an old habit of Autobots, Prowl… to offer energon to a mech who will be soon deactivated? Isn't it ironic, not to mention absurd? You shouldn´t waste resources so recklessly," he said weakly.

"Things are not as you think they are, Thundercracker. And no, it's not an Autobot habit. It was my decision."

Thundercracker smiled with what little irony he had left. "I see… I should be thankful, then."

Prowl sighed and leaned against the wall. "I know gratitude is not a part of a Decepticon's programming, although I wouldn't be surprised if you possessed it. After all, you are… different from the rest of your comrades."

A metallic sound could be heard as Thundercracker raised his head. It bothered Prowl since he wasn't sure if the noise had been produced by the Decepticon's damaged neck or the heavy chains restraining him.

"Whatever you have come to say, save it. The last thing I need now is provoked pity of a filthy Autobot. Leave me alone!" Thundercracker spat.

"If you could leave your foolish pride aside for just one moment and let me help you…"

"Is there a problem with your audios, Prowl? I already told you I don't want your slagging consideration!" the Decepticon roared, trying frantically to get rid of the chains.

Prowl waited until Thundercracker stopped shaking his body inside the reduced space the tight chains allowed him to move in.

"Are you done with that? I see you still have strength left to fight," the Second in Command said.

Thundercracker's answer manifested again with violent shakes. "Free one of my fragging arms and I'll show you just how much strength I have left!"

Prowl shook his head. "You're not angry with me, but with yourself. You can't blame Cranker either…"

Thundercracker's desperate efforts to free himself stopped as abruptly as they started. Just as Prowl thought, the mere mention of his creator's name was enough to paralyze the erratic Decepticon.

Prowl lifted the energon cube, shaking it softly. "Have you ever thought you could've been an Autobot warrior, Thundercracker?"

The silence that welcomed the Second in Command's question showed that his enemy had no intention in answering, but then again, there were still places for surprises.

"Of course I have…" the Seeker finally replied. His voice held no trace of his recent fury, just dark bitterness.

"And is it too late for you to… reconsider?" Prowl carefully asked.

Thundercracker displayed a sarcastic smile. "Are you offering to have me join the Autobots, Prowl?"

"Not precisely. Not yet, at least. I just want to help you."

"And what did I do to gain the honor of your pity?"

"Could you stop with that mocking attitude, Thundercracker? Why do you have to be so stubborn?"

Thundercracker didn't reply. Prowl perceived a small amount of hope and continued speaking. "You are not like other Decepticons, and not only because of the circumstances of your creation, but for the prudent mood you have always showed, even on the battlefield… No matter what the Autobot Council says, it would take only one word from Optimus Prime and the nightmare would be over… for you and your creator."

Thundercracker glanced deeply at his enemy. "And you are indeed like any other Autobot, Prowl. You always wear your kindness to hide your real twisted intentions. Is this blackmail pact a part of the Autobot code or is it your own decision?"

Prowl slightly shook his head. "I see mistrust is definitely a part of your own code."

Thundercracker tried shrugging his shoulders. "It's kept me functioning… until now… when I stupidly decided to lower my guard to follow an absurd sentimentalism. You can tell Optimus Prime to keep his precious word. I'm not a traitor. If you want classified information you better resort to your best torture methods because this pathetic approximation of yours is not working."

"We Autobots don't support torture, you should know that."

"You should reconsider. Most times it provides very positive results. I have seen it."

"I don't doubt it... Is your decision made, then?"

"You can bet your spark it is."

Prowl sighed. "I tried, Thundercracker, but you insist on remaining blind."

The Autobot walked to the threshold of the cell and made a signal with his arm.

Behind him, Thundercracker's deep laughter erupted.

"Yes… call your gears! You are one of them after all, just as I am! You think your opinions are authentic but you are only following your programming! Where's your freedom, Prowl? Within your slavery?"

Prowl's hand shivered but fortunately for him his enemy couldn't see it. "It's time, Thundercracker," he said, not daring to face the Decepticon. "You will be taken to the Autobot Supreme Tribunal. You will be judged for your war crimes and for high treason committed against planet Cybertron and the Cybertronian race."

A platoon of soldiers waited for Prowl to leave the cell before entering. The Autobot Second in Command walked as fast as he could, Thundercracker's distant voice drilling his tortured audios.

"Sentence is total deactivation! Why don't you just kill me now, fragging Autobots?!"

Noises of hits and struggle proved Thundercracker indeed had strength left to fight.

Prowl hurried to leave the corridor. No eternal war could teach him to ignore the violent battles between his logic and conscience.

_To be continued._

* * *

_Author's notes: Beta read by my partner in crime KayDeeBlu. Reviews are very welcome :o)_


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's notes: __As we reach the final chapters of this story, I want to thank all the people who have joined this purple journey. Your support is priceless to me and I don't have words to describe how much I have enjoyed every review you have been so kind to leave. _

_Now some notes concerning this chapter. There will be a couple of names I took from the Transformers name generator of CN, so it's very probably that they had been used in other fan fictions that have no relation with this one._

_A big hug to my sis KayDeeBlu, who has been the best beta and friend._

* * *

**Chapter 12**

A screechy sound tore through the silence. Red optics showing within the darkness produced annoyed glimpses as a snarl emitted somewhere inside the partial shade of the tunnel.

"This is the last time I demand you stop doing that, Wildrider! Next time you will deal with my fist!" Breakdown complained, his voice reverberating throughout the cylindrical confinement.

Wildrider cackled. Two thin lines of light coming from his chest illuminated his right hand, which continued ripping the metal walls.

"I'm bored," the Ferrari said as soon as his laughs died down enough to allow him to speak. "Why can't we just transform and roll out the rest of the way?"

"Are you stupid? If we do that, we'll be detected." Breakdown narrowed one of his optics in a nervous tic before returning his attention to the road before them. "A little help with the lights would be perfect right now… Dead End?"

A disdainful complaint was heard from behind. Dead End walked his way through the penumbra, following the trace lights Breakdown was generating.

"Darkness is better," the Porsche absent-mindedly responded.

"Fine! But if you stumble, don't you dare fall on me or you'll regret it! Got it?"

"Leave him alone, Break," Wildrider intervened. "He likes darkness. It reminds him of a tomb. Right, Dead?"

Dead End didn't reply. He was used to his mates' mockeries about his pessimism and notorious fixations with death.

Wildrider tore the wall again with the tips of his fingers. "So how far are we? I really mean it when I say I'm bored…"

"Three levels before arriving to the meeting point. According to the coordinates that Autobot gave us…"

"That's exactly what I'm talking about!" cried Wildrider, interrupting Breakdown. "How come we are blindly following data given by an Autobot? An AUTOBOT!"

"Orders," Dead End simply replied, his voice the perfect antithesis of enthusiasm.

Breakdown tripped suddenly, leaning on the wall to stay on his feet. A human curse came from his vocalizer. "And what for? To save the aft of some useless Seeker who happens to have been created by an Autobot? I'm telling you, this is a conspiracy ploy! Everyone is against us. Sometimes I think Moto was reprogrammed… and we are next…"

"Everything is a conspiracy for you, Break," laughed Wildrider. "Take my advice: let yourself go and enjoy this. At least we will be able to destroy some Autobot creeps."

"I don't understand… First you are complaining and now you tell us to enjoy this? Have you noticed you are notoriously unstable, Wildrider, not to mention contradictory?" Dead End said, frowning at his fellow Stunticon.

The answer from the Ferrari came once again in the form of high laughs, which switched immediately into growls, confirming the rumors about his stability, or lack of. "Shredding Autobots to pieces will always be a reason to celebrate. What bothers me, what really pisses me off, is following Skywarp's orders. Since when do we Stunticons work with a Seeker?"

Breakdown rubbed his hands in pleasure. "Since that Seeker will allow us to kick the lubricant out of him."

"I will tear his wings off, one by one," hissed Wildrider, abundantly overjoyed with the image.

"He only has two, you idiot," the Lamborghini retorted.

"Bah… whatever… let's see if ole' Warpo will ever fly again after I finish with him."

"Are we going to kill him?" Dead End asked innocently, suddenly interested in the subject.

"Moto said we shouldn't restrain ourselves. Hey Dead, maybe you can ask him if he can see the light, you know, that light at the end of the tunnel…"

"Speaking of lights at the end of a tunnel…" Breakdown said, stopping to corroborate the coordinates in his CPU three times.

"Now what?" Wildrider asked.

"Now we wait," the Lamborghini replied, pointing his light in all directions. "Moto will give us the signal."

"Oh, Break?"

"What?" Breakdown scowled.

"I'm _staring_ at you!" Wildrider happily yelled, attacking his friend's paranoia of being watched.

Dead End stepped aside to avoid both Stunticons colliding into him. More than used to the sudden fights between his mates, the sullen mech sat down under a roof hatch. The thin line of light coming from the surface caught his optic. And as Breakdown and Wildrider continued sharing strong punches, Dead End wondered if it would be that way… the infamous light at the end of the tunnel…

* * *

Skywarp ran the plan over in his logics for the tenth time… or was it the eleventh? Anxiety and total immobility were claiming their hold. He had to find a distraction or his mind would start playing tricks on him. It wouldn't be the first time.

Tranquility wasn't something the black Seeker particularly enjoyed. A natural action lover, he felt insecure and vulnerable when forced to face silence and solitude.

There was no worst torture than not having anyone to talk to. It was in those moments of absolute silence in which the Decepticon was assaulted by memories. He had his own share of open wounds, still very far away from being closed.

Skywarp would have shaken his head, if he would've been able. Transformed into alt mode - the earthly F-15 design - he was camouflaged behind a hologram that made him look like one of the triangular vortexes of the tall building. The mirage reminded him of his ancient days as a Cybertronian tetrajet, when Thundercracker, Starscream and he were a novice trine of young cadets full of ambitious dreams.

Skywarp was almost glad when he received the transmission from Motormaster. There were very few mechanoids he hated as much as the insane Stunticon leader, but still his voice was better than the desperate silent waiting.

"_My Stunticons have arrived at the meeting point. What's the target location?_" Motormaster's voice reverberated through the Seeker's commlink.

"Arriving to the approximate coordinates, now. No confirmation of their exact route, but judging from the size of the convoy, the Autobots should be following tunnel 4-B inside the old industrial sector of Iacon."

"_Yes, they'll move through the tunnels, like rats… Those Autobots must be very afraid._"

"They are being precautious, Motormaster, as we must be."

Static accompanied Motormaster's sneer, the Stunticon leader restless for any kind of violence to begin.

"Where's the Autobot?" Skywarp asked.

"_Back in Polyhex. He'll meet us at the tavern, I think... Did you deactivate his commlink as agreed? We must always consider the possibility of betrayal. He could change his mind about his loyalties… his allegiance over his creation…"_

"I deactivated it, don't worry; though it's a useless precaution in this case. He won't betray us."

"_If you say so… I still think we should've wasted him as soon as he stopped being useful. I'll be waiting for your signal, then."_

"Affirmative. Skywarp out."

The Seeker ended the communication, preparing for another stressful period of waiting.

* * *

A sudden vicious jostling threw Thundercracker forward. Fortunately for him, heavy chains kept him fixated to the seat of the huge vehicle in which he was being transported.

One of the Autobot guards, a rookie, didn't calculate the magnitude of the tremor and ended up on his knees instead. Candid laughs welcomed his encounter with the floor.

The guard forced a laugh as well, trying to minimize his embarrassing predicament.

One of the soldiers who had cackled more noisily, a tall and bulky green Autobot, directed his attention onto the prisoner.

"Hey, Decepticon! Don't you laugh too? Didn't you find it funny?"

Thundercracker didn't respond. The half dozen Autobots who were watching him brought no interested acknowledgement from the Seeker at all.

"I'm talking to you, Decepticon scum!"

"Leave him alone, Hammerbolt. I don't think he feels like laughing right now. He's facing a very unpleasant fate," one of the other guards said.

Hammerbolt twisted his mouth in contempt. "He did this to himself. Time to pay for his crimes. How do you guys think he'll be executed?"

A red elder Autobot who was leaning on one of the vehicle's corner compartments, shrugged his shoulders then. "There aren't many alternatives. The Council will be merciful, though, that much I do know. An abundant dose of sitronic acid will melt his inner circuitry in a matter of astro seconds."

Hammerbolt's grimace turned bigger. "The Council is getting soft, I've always said it. It should be like the good old times… when all of our weapons would've been fired simultaneously on this slag pile."

Another guard, who had been staring out one of the barred windows, turned around and glanced at his companion. "Do you actually believe filling his structure with sitronic acid is a soft execution? I've seen some mechs die like that, and I doubt I will ever be able to forget it."

Hammerbolt smirked. "Did you hear that, Deceptiscum? Very soon the sweet acid will melt you, and the last thing you'll hear will be the sound of your own circuits dissolving, one by one. Have you ever imagined what it feels like when every part of you burns at the same time?"

Once again, Thundercracker ignored the Autobot.

The young guard who had fallen to the floor scratched his head at his comrade's remark. "But aren't the prisoners filled with an anesthetic first? I thought the procedure was totally painless…"

Hammerbolt shot a murderous glance at him. "Thank you very much for ruining everything, Nitrostrike!" he cried.

Nitrostrike bowed his head in embarrassment.

Hammerbolt shook his head and glanced back at Thundercracker again. "Whatever… it won't be pleasant, Decepticon, make no mistake about that. And you know what? It's very probable _I _will be the one giving you that anesthetic, and it could happen that I forget… My memory banks have been failing me recently…"

The lack of reaction the prisoner was exhibiting infuriated the Autobot. Brutally, Thundercracker's face was struck with the butt of Hammerbolt's rifle, making the Seeker's head twist and crash against the metallic ledge of the little window beside him.

"What the slag is your problem, Hammerbolt?!" the formerly patient elder guard yelled. "Commander Prowl specifically ordered us not to damage the prisoner anymore!"

"These assassins destroyed my city! Maybe this fragger was among the ones who killed my friends!" was the furious answer.

The agitated voices got lost inside the confused mist Thundercracker's mind was. With his face still leaning on the small ledge below the window, nostalgia painfully took over. It was the last time Cybertron's grey landscapes would ever be watched. Focusing the last bit of energy left in his only functional optic, Thundercracker tried absorbing every street, every building, every artificial light… It was sad it had to be seen this way… like a prisoner… like a condemned mech.

It didn't matter he was in Iacon, Autobot territory. It was his planet, Cybertron, the one that was running away from him, as well as his own life.

A hand held his arm, returning him to the tangible world of suffering. The elder Autobot lifted Thundercracker up, making him stand upright. Exposed shoulder circuits extended painful complaints to his mutilated wing.

"Just try and relax, kid. It will be over soon. Keep your dignity as you have since your capture," the Autobot said serenely.

"Dignity? How could this scum have dignity?"

The face of the elder Autobot became harder. "I said that was enough, Hammerbolt! This Decepticon will be terminated today. Show some respect."

Hammerbolt closed his mouth in a growl and deviated his glance.

Nitrostrike looked out the window. "We're about to enter the tunnels," he said, attempting to break the heavy silence. "Commander Prowl and the others are already inside."

The artificial lights of the surface disappeared. Darkness penetrated. It was in that moment in which Thundercracker fully understood.

Dying had already begun.

* * *

Nobody knows where hell begins.

The tunnel exploded, unleashing an unstoppable chain reaction. The noise was absolute, deafening. But soon the sound was minor, viciously pushed aside by fire and by the burning of melted metal.

Among smoke and chaos, the energic voice of the Autobot Second in Command could be heard from outside.

"Secure the perimeter! Surround the transport!" Prowl ordered.

Nitrostrike shot upward from the corner he had been sitting, opening an improvised exit on one of the sides of the overturned transport, not daring to go out. He shrunk back inside, holding his temples in desperation.

"They found us! I don't know how but they found us!" he cried.

"Pull yourself together, Nitrostrike!" Hammerbolt commanded. "We have to protect the convoy no matter the cost!"

The six guards prepared their weapons. Three of them exited quickly through the opening as Nitrostrike, Hammerbolt, and the elder Autobot stayed inside the transport to guard the prisoner.

Screams… shots… explosions…

Monstrous dimensions.

Deadly glimpses of laser beams and fire constantly illuminating the tunnel.

Hell had been found.

* * *

Thundercracker lifted his head weakly, completely oblivious to the surrounding insanity. Everything was a very confusing universe for him to understand. His punished body barely returned any signals of pain, his defeated mind holding no place for hope.

The reasons for his presence were forgotten. One by one, the Seeker began to shut down his secondary systems, a calm resignation for what was coming. And when the transport vehicle violently shook after being fired upon, Thundercracker, still chained and defenseless inside, remained emotionless, even as a second crash completely ripped off one of the sides.

Motormaster's imposing alt mode irrupted, colliding with two of the Autobot guards inside the vehicle, leaving only Hammerbolt standing, who started shooting frantically.

The terrestrial trailer seemed immune to the firepower, heavily protected by the unique alloy that made him practically invincible.

A purple flash appeared directly behind Hammerbolt. The Autobot was in the middle of turning around when his arm was suddenly torn from his body courtesy of one point blank laser shot.

"Slag, Motormaster! I told you to be careful! You could've blasted the entire transport!" Skywarp cried, kicking the fallen Autobot away, who was howling in pain.

Retreating, the Stunticon leader burst out laughing, ready to continue his destructive labor around him.

A near explosion illuminated Thundercracker's chained figure. Skywarp's optics narrowed in frenzied panic when he saw the shattered state of his friend.

"Primus, TC! What the slag did they do to you?"

Thundercracker didn't reply. His expression was absent and empty. He didn't seem to even acknowledge the presence of his wingmate.

Carefully, Skywarp started breaking the chains with accurate and controlled doses of laser fire. Thundercracker's lack of attitude was very disturbing. Skywarp feared the CPU of his friend was damaged, or perhaps he was entering stasis mode. Whatever it was, he had to act fast.

Finally, the last chain fell to the floor as Skywarp carefully picked Thundercracker up. Energon and lubricant coming from the blue Seeker's wounds stained Skywarp's chest.

"This will hurt a little, TC… hold on."

Before teleporting, Skywarp pointed one of his arm cannons at the head of the fallen Hammerbolt. His need for revenge had to be satisfied somehow.

"Welcome to oblivion, Autobot," his hatred spoke. An astro second after, a deadly shot.

New Cybertronian vital fluids marked the black jet's feet as Hammerbolt's head exploded. When the unrecognizable pieces of the Autobot's cranium fell to the floor, the space in which both Decepticon Seekers had been standing was empty.

* * *

Skywarp and Thundercracker reappeared very close to the destroyed convoy.

The black Seeker cursed himself. As much as he had tried, the subspace jump had been very short. Carrying Thundercracker had severely limited his teleporting abilities. Another try in those conditions was not only pointless but dangerous.

The tunnel was a war zone and, even though the Stunticons had created a Cybertronian version of the human Apocalypse, there were still many Autobots standing.

"This is bad… Slag TC! I wish you could fight…" Skywarp muttered, walking as fast as he could toward a dark corner of the tunnel. "Motormaster, if you are going to merge into Menasor do it now! We are surrounded!" he cried through his commlink.

Vicious laughter answered.

"Slagging pieces of terrestrial junk and slag me for associating with those frag piles!" Skywarp scowled, dodging shots and pieces of metal that were flying everywhere.

A near split in the tunnel made Skywarp feel something close to hope, but his efforts were bitterly rewarded when a bomb impacted his back.

A cry of pain and rage came out of the black Seeker's vocalizer as he fell on his knees. The damage wasn't as bad as it seemed but with his equilibrium sensors hit, the simple action of standing up was a very difficult task.

"Motormaster!" he yelled into the distance, lifting his arms and shooting a frenetic rain of laser fire.

He could see Menasor's enormous figure shredding Autobots with his sword, being bombarded by countless enemy shots.

Skywarp's optics widened in horror when he caught sight of a group of Autobots pointing a missile launcher at him.

"Incoming missile, TC!" Skywarp shouted to his fallen wingmate in desperation, but Thundercracker didn't even attempt to move.

Among a disordered exhibition of curses directed toward the Stunticons, Thundercracker and himself, Skywarp tried crawling toward his wingmate.

Once again, hell took over. The missile grazed Skywarp's head, impacting the wall above him. An avalanche of metal fell onto both Seekers.

* * *

Extinction had arrived.

Finally.

_Should it be welcomed?_ _Should I be grateful or furious?_ Thundercracker couldn't decide. The only thing he knew was that there was no more pain.

But was that death? There was something strange there, something physical. If everything had ended, why was there weight on his body? Was there something left he could still call a body?

It was then his spark, more than his only functional optic, showed him the truth. That weight over his structure was not something. It was _somebody_.

Cranker...

Memories of past astro seconds were hazy and lost. Thundercracker couldn't remember, hadn't even realized the moment which his creator had covered him to protect him from the landslide.

The stasis that had already begun to take Thundercracker over, retreated, urged by panic.

Suddenly, he was able to feel again, the pain of his wounds demonstrating that fact beautifully.

But it wasn't his pain anymore. It was Cranker's. Thundercracker's spark vibrated, recognizing the one who had provided him with sentient life, the one who had raised him. The unbreakable bond between creator and creation consummated again.

A soft voice came from a broken smile. "Little Crank…"

* * *

Skywarp knelt, managing to rid himself of the debris covering him.

In the distance, Menasor had disengaged back into five Stunticons, each one continuing to battle against the remaining Autobots.

A glimpse into one of the metal pieces scattered on the ground was all the excuse Skywarp needed to raise one of his thin arm cannons and aim toward his left side. His weapon struck the Autobot Second in Command's chest, who was also pointing at his enemy.

"Give up, Skywarp. Six against thirty is absurd," Prowl coldly said, his gun pointed on the black Seeker's cheek.

"Thirty? Seems like fourteen to me… Did you already count your fatalities, Prowl?"

Prowl didn't reply but thick indignation shone in his visor. The Decepticon was right. Most of the Autobot guards were grounded, many of them certainly without possibilities of repair.

"Shoot. Before you destroy my head I swear to Primus I will rip open your chest and extinguish your spark. You won't live to see me dead," Skywarp hissed.

Prowl didn't hesitate. His finger caressed the trigger.

An abrupt noise beside both Transformers broke the deadly tension. Among the debris, emerged the figure of Thundercracker, carrying a very damaged Cranker in his arms.

Sometimes things happen during battles, miracles by those who want to give them a name, moments in which everything seems not to matter anymore.

Despite his countless wounds, Thundercracker was imposing. His greatness above power, blue and grey colors lighting the darkness, glimpses of flames giving him an appearance that didn't belong to that place… or any other for the matter.

Prowl and Skywarp slightly lowered their weapons, no reasoning implied for their actions.

"TC…" the black Seeker managed to whisper.

Thundercracker began to walk slowly, defying the weak state of his body.

Sepulchral silence reigned inside the tunnel. Only the blue jet's steps and the crackle of fire could be heard. Even the Stunticons remained motionless.

Skywarp and Prowl glanced at each other. In an impossible, tacit agreement, both completely lowered their weapons. Prowl retreated slowly, the Stunticons doing the same, following Motormaster's mental command, who had been heavily damaged during battle. Only Dead End remained where he stood, watching with interest how the blue Seeker disappeared through the subterranean darkness.

"Could it be… is it real… the light at the end of the tunnel?" he softly asked the same Autobot who, some astro seconds ago, he had been ready to kill.

Thundercracker continued walking. Cranker's optics blinked weakly, his mouth part way opened. Father and son had their last conversation, away from all war and every sin. Cranker knew for sure that day… the one holding him in his arms was his beloved son.

There was no place left for distinctions between Autobot and Decepticon… or for treason.

_To be continued._

* * *

_A/N: Yes, one more chapter to go. Please let me know your opinions._


	13. Epilogue

_Author's notes: Finally, the last chapter of what has been my longest fic__ so far. I want to thank all the people who followed this story. Your support is much appreciated and all your comments treasured. _

_I hope you will enjoy this. I want to thank KayDeeBlu for beta reading this fic. All those nights talking about Seekers are already unforgettable. SAHS._

* * *

**Epilogue**

If there was one word Skywarp could've applied to the recent events of the past few cycles, _silence _would've been it, no questions asked.

If he could have added another one, _weird_ would have been the next logical choice.

Because that was what the cycles after returning to Earth brought: silence and oddities.

It started on Cybertron. Thundercracker had returned to Polyhex alone, no traces of what happened with his creator filling him or any further explanations concerning the matter.

Shockwave's unemotional claims about both Seeker's delay in returning to the space bridge were answered with the same coldness. It was obvious the faceless purple Decepticon knew about the little battle in Iacon; he had audios and optics all over Cybertron. Besides, his indifference toward Thundercracker's shattered physical condition confirmed all suspicions. Shockwave knew, which meant Megatron did too. Waiting for consequences was the only option.

And that was precisely what Skywarp had decided to do.

Wait.

Arriving on Earth was full of uncomfortable subtleties. Skywarp would have preferred giving direct explanations, even filling out one of those obsolete reports. Any formality would have been better than the whispering, the furtive glances, the fingers pointing within the shadows…

But in order to know the exact truths of the rumors, an exhaustive investigation between the base's main gossip spreaders was inevitable. Veracity had to be minimal. Skywarp was sure of it.

Thundercracker… created by an Autobot.

It didn't take very much complex use of one's CPU to know how juicy of a novelty it was to just be tossed aside. In an environment where the word Autobot was a natural hate instigator, logic dictated all empty spaces of said truth had to be filled with all kind of versions, every one more surreal than the previous one.

And that was tiring, not to mention stressful. When Swindle stood in front of Skywarp, point blank asking him his version as an ocular witness, the answer received didn't come in terms of spoken language. Nobody was surprised when the Combaticon was found the next cycle half buried in junk inside the garbage disposal unit.

The situation only got worse when the Stunticons returned from Cybertron. With Thundercracker's secret already long out, the gestalt team's lame attempts at honoring a promise vanished in an astro click. Drag Strip and Wildrider revealed themselves as very talented story tellers, exerting no problems unleashing their imagination about all the details they didn't witness.

Fortunately, the High Command handled the situation with considerable more discretion. It was no secret Megatron and Thundercracker had a private conversation after the blue Seeker was released from the repair bay. The details were never revealed, though it must have been on good terms because Thundercracker left the Command Center in one piece, with all the privileges as a member of the Decepticon Aerial Elite. However, Skywarp was sure instructions had been ordered for Soundwave to have Laserbeak or Buzzsaw keep an optic on the reserved Seeker. Any possibility of treason could never be ignored, even less with a mech that had such close bonds with a member of the enemy faction.

Most surprising by far, was Starscream's attitude. His reaction was totally unexpected: none_._ He continued addressing Thundercracker with the same pretentious superiority used with all of the Seekers under his command, keeping him inside his very limited circle of trust, if such a thing even existed.

Internally, Skywarp thanked him. Animosity toward his Air Commander had never been hidden, but he had to admit the presumptuous jerk could still favorably surprise. Verbal gratitude was out of the question, though. Starscream would've considered it pathetic as well as weak. Skywarp decided the best way to reciprocate was by not making the high strung Seeker the target of his pranks, at least for a while.

Pranks were the last thing in the black Seeker's CPU in that moment, though.

* * *

Rumors didn't kill, neither did devious comments. If so, the Decepticon Empire would be no more. Soon new gossip would take lead and Thundercracker's origins would be left in peace.

That solved one of Skywarp's main problems, but not the principal one.

Now, it was his turn to deal with the silence, and that bothered him horribly. Selfishness and authentic concern about his best friend had the black Seeker in a very bad mood. Patience had come to an abrupt end. Beating the living slag out of Swindle had only been a temporary release. The problem had to be resolved immediately.

It had been extremely difficult, but Skywarp understood. Thundercracker needed time alone to think and recover from his loss. With the exception of formalities relating to missions or duties inside the base, both Seekers hadn't talked at all since their return to Earth. All cheerful chatter from before was now a notorious absence within the Nemesis walls.

Solar cycles continued going by, and with them an expected return to normality was announced. However, fate had bizarre ways of functioning; the fact it was unpredictable didn't help whatsoever. Tranquility never guaranteed completeness. But treacherous placidness always guaranteed storms would still endure.

* * *

About to finish his night shift at the Command Center, Skywarp received a certain message from Motormaster.

The black Seeker erased it with contempt. He had been so focused on other issues that the deal with the Stunticons had nearly been forgotten.

Time to pay a debt.

"Punching bag…" he muttered, turning off the monitor at his surveillance station.

* * *

A little underworld existed in the lower part of the Nemesis base. Under the arsenals, laboratories, work stations, personal quarters and Command Center, a disorganized group of abandoned storage units served as improvised shelters for fun. Bets, high grade energon, bizarre experiments on human beings and clandestine fights flew with freedom. Every Decepticon on the ship had surrendered to such alternate ways in order to give a little something back to a war lasting way too long.

Storage Unit 4-B.

Combat arena by nature and self proclaimed Stunticon territory, it had been the setting of countless friendly fights, many of them with near fatal results.

When Skywarp entered through the wide door, the possibility of never coming out again was seriously considered.

"You are punctual. Good for you," a deep voice boomed within the partial darkness. Hard shadows projected onto the walls and all over the metallic containers scattered on the floor. Few lights came from the external illumination system of the ship, which were eerily lighting the bottom of the terrestrial sea.

Skywarp adapted his optics but it was an unnecessary adjustment. Motormaster emerged from one of the corners of the storage room, his grey figure clearly visible.

As if waiting for the trailer to move, the remaining Stunticons also advanced, stopping behind their leader. Only Dead End remained motionless, leaning beside a window, staring absent-mindedly at the ocean.

"So… how are we going to do this? Any rules?" Skywarp asked with nothing but serious determination reflecting back.

"None, punk. We're going to hit you until we break our hand joints, no big deal," Wildrider replied, optics shinning with malice.

"Am I allowed to defend myself?"

Motormaster's huge hand grabbed Skywarp's neck, lifting him up from the floor as the designated response.

"Definitely not. What part of punching bag didn't you understand?"

A strong spasm over took Skywarp's neck as it was brutally crushed. Fighting back the urgency of wanting to rid himself of the vicious grip, he succeeded in keeping his arms motionless, accepting a punishment that was only starting.

Motormaster smirked, mercilessly throwing his victim backward. Skywarp crashed against a wall, falling onto his knees.

"I see you didn't use your thrusters to avoid falling. You surprise me, Skywarp."

The black Seeker rubbed his sore neck, standing up uneasily. "I'm honoring my part of the deal…"

Encouraged by their leader's attitude, Breakdown, Drag Strip and Wildrider approached, evil grimaces exhibited on their faces.

Violently, Drag Strip held Skywarp by the shoulders and slammed him against the wall. The black Seeker narrowed his optics at the sight of the fist that rose before him.

Concern for his physical appearance took over any fear of being taken offline permanently. "Just… try not to ruin my face…" the Seeker said wearily.

"I'm so sorry, pretty boy, but when we finish nobody will be able to distinguish you from a Quintesson's aft!" Wildrider shouted.

Drag Strip's fist erupted with brutal strength. A strong sound could be heard as it impacted metal. Groaning in frustration, Drag Strip frantically tried shaking his wrists that were being held firmly by his leader's powerful hand then.

"Aaaaarrgh! You promised we'd have some fun with him!" the yellow Stunticon complained.

"We already have. Now, back off you three!" Motormaster ordered, releasing his subordinate.

Skywarp's face couldn't have showed more confusion as he stared at his attackers. "What the slag is the meaning of this?"

The Stunticon leader shrugged his shoulders. "It means we are done. You can go."

Astonishment increased.

"What sort of joke is this? Didn't you slaggers want a punching bag? Well, here I am!" Skywarp cried.

"Are you deaf, fly boy? Take a walk! This is Stunticon territory," was the rude command from Drag Strip. The Tyrell opened and closed his fists, further making his intimidating point known.

"Take your optics off me, punk!" Breakdown shouted furiously, roughly shoving Skywarp.

The Seeker ignored the paranoid Lamborghini. "But…"

"Let's say you owe us a favor," Motormaster said, folding his arms across his chest.

"I'm not good at repaying favors. This could be your only chance…"

Motormaster's face held a strange expression, something Skywarp had never seen before on the normally psychopathic mech.

"You are not as much of a coward as I thought, Seeker. I respect that," the trailer ended, his tone clearly stressing how the discussion was over.

Slightly shaking his head, Skywarp headed slowly toward the exit.

Dead End's reflective voice could be heard as the Seeker exited through the storage unit's threshold. "Do you think Thundercracker gave his creator a proper homecoming?"

* * *

Furious footsteps echoed through the corridors of the Nemesis at an hour in which inactivity was the queen.

Skywarp had had enough.

Not only had he respected Thundercracker's privacy for almost thirty damn cycles, but now he also had to carry the humiliating burden of the Stunticon's mercy.

Walking was unbearable too. Skywarp teleported and reappeared outside his wingmate's personal quarters only to be welcomed by the sight of an Autobot insignia adorning the door.

Rumble and Frenzy… The childish lines of the symbol unmasked the culprits of the prank. Skywarp would enjoy crushing both runts later, no matter what kind of problems would arise with Soundwave.

Acid, solvent… Any corrosive agent would have been welcomed that moment, but impatience drove Skywarp to rub the red insignia off with his own finger tips instead. But the painstaking task soon grew tiring. Putting his fist firmly against the door to announce his presence, Skywarp completely forgot the existence of a certain button mounted on the side that served that purpose.

No answer came from inside.

"TC, it's me… let me in," Skywarp said, trying to calm down. He didn't even know exactly why he was so upset.

Nothing.

Skywarp hit the door again, frantically punching the familiar button at the same time.

"Come on, open up!"

Three unanswered attempts were too many. Thirty cycles of respectful privacy ended that same moment. Skywarp teleported inside Thundercracker's quarters.

It was empty.

He wasn't surprised.

* * *

Next subspace jump took Skywarp to the Command Center. Ramjet and Dirge were on guard duty.

"Where's Thundercracker?" the black Seeker demanded, still surrounded by the fading purple light from his physical reappearance.

The two Coneheads flinched at the surprising sight. Although seeing Skywarp teleporting was a usual thing, nobody knew when he would do it and who he would choose to scare.

"Recharging, I suppose. What do we care about what he does when he's not on duty?" Dirge disdainfully spat.

Skywarp folded his arms across his chest. "He's not in the base."

Ramjet burst into laughter, elbowing his companion. "Hey, maybe he's with his Autobot buddies!"

Both Conehead's cackles could be heard beyond the frontiers of the Command Center.

"You better shut your trap hole and give me TC's locality, Ramjet!" scowled Skywarp. Punching bag… yes… he could see the attraction now… Ramjet would be a great acquaintance for anger management purposes.

"Don't you dare to give me orders, Skywarp!" was the furious answer.

"My rank is superior to yours! I have all the right! Now obey my command immediately or I will make that cone head of yours even uglier!"

Ramjet stood up, fists clenched and ready. Any excuse to fight was welcomed.

Buzzing from the computer console displayed the requested coordinates on the huge screen. Dirge punched a few commands making a satellite image of a terrestrial landscape appear, surrounded by a code of Cybertronian characters.

"There. Satisfied now?" he said.

Skywarp ignored Dirge, his attention focusing on the energy signature being displayed.

"Raise the launching platform," he ordered.

"Where is your authorization?" Ramjet spat, not ready to give up the possibility of ruining a certain black and purple paintjob.

Skywarp moved too fast. It was unavoidable. The black hand grabbing the Conehead's neck… widened optics staring straight at the laser rifle aimed toward his face.

"Here it is," Skywarp hissed dangerously.

Once again, Dirge decided on exercising prudence. "Launching platform ready," he mumbled.

Stabbing Ramjet one last killer glance, Skywarp walked toward the entrance of the platform.

"Thanks so much for your help, partner!" Ramjet growled once Skywarp was out of his sight.

"Trust me… better not mess with him right now," Dirge uneasily replied.

* * *

_37°38__′N 123°08′W_ _/ _ _37.633, -123.133__._ The place indicated by the coordinates was not too far away from the Decepticon base, at least not in Cybertronian terms. Some subspace jumps later, Thundercracker's energy signature appeared on Skywarp's radar, the blue F-15 on a steady course but not yet in his sight.

The place they were flying was unknown. A vast amount of small islands resisted the attacks of a furious sea that crashed against their beaches with vicious rage.

The black Seeker made sure his presence was clear; he had no intentions of surprising his wingmate. After flying above for a couple minutes, Skywarp opened the private frequency only him and Thundercracker shared.

"_TC…"_

No response.

"_TC!"_ Skywarp repeated, his voice firm and loud.

There were very few things the black Seeker hated more than being ignored. From his point of view, it was something very close to aggression.

"_Would you mind at least acknowledging my presence?"_ he shouted.

"_Leave, Warp,"_ was the cold answer.

Skywarp relaxed somehow at the sound of his wingmate's voice, definitely a good signal. Encouraged by the little success, he increased velocity. Soon the blue and grey F-15 was finally spotted.

"_Could you touch __down for a moment, TC? I need to talk to you."_

Silence returned, as well as Skywarp's increasing distress.

"_I really need to talk to you! Descend!"_

"_What do I have to do for you to leave me alone for a fragging moment?!"_ Thundercracker roared, honoring his name and shaking Skywarp's commlink with the potency of his voice.

"_Landing would be a good start,"_ Skywarp carefully replied. At least he could feel his friend's rage. It was much better than speculating.

"_Stay __away! Didn't it come to mind if I had any intentions on talking to you I would've done it already?!"_

Thundercracker's roughness was nothing Skywarp hadn't expected.

"_You know, TC, I don't think your creator would've approved…"_

"_Don't tal__k about him as if you had known him, Skywarp! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! The last thing I need right now is your non requested attempt of consideration!"_

"_Would it destroy you to __stop for a moment and talk to me? I'm trying to understand you, frag it!"_

Thundercracker's answer didn't come with words. The grayish sky announcing the night's end shook and exploded violently around Skywarp. Sonic vibrations of different magnitudes confused his orientation sensors, nearly sending him toward the surface of the sea.

A sonic boom.

Had Thundercracker really done it? Launched a sonic boom at _him_?

"_What the slag __are you doing?! Have you lost your fragging mind?!"_ Skywarp cried furiously.

"_That was a warning. Next time I won't be that considerate. Leave!"_

Engines roaring with anger, Skywarp increased speed, shortening the distance between them considerably.

The sea breeze vibrated Skywarp's wings again but he didn't care. He was more than capable of anticipating the astro seconds preceding another infamous sonic attack. Surprise could be had once, but not twice.

Just as Thundercracker expected, his high intensity sonic boom was received by an empty space. Transforming into his bipedal mode just in time, the blue Seeker saw his wingmate, who instantly reappeared above his head, already transformed.

Skywarp threw the first punch. Sparks jumped as strong metallic sounds were heard throughout sky. Blocking the attack, Thundercracker impacted his fist directly into his wingmate's face. Immediately, a similar answer was given. Pain and fury mixed without order as both Decepticons fought in the air, each one trying to damage the other as much as possible, all traces of friendship forgotten.

Never, in almost nine million years of knowing each other, had the two Seekers fought. Engaging in violent games were mere rough extensions of what Skywarp considered an essential part of being "best friends." But this was completely different. Thundercracker was trying to hurt Skywarp, wanted to hurt him. That painful confirmation came courtesy of a brutal punch that cracked the black Seeker's left optic.

Skywarp cried out in pain. Was that his friend? Had he risked his life and allowed the Stunticons to humiliate him for this?

The hard surface of the beach received both Decepticons in an explosion of water, sand, and pieces of coral reef. Totally absorbed in their combat, none of them even realized the moment they had stopped flying. Sending gravity to the pit had never been the smartest idea.

Both fliers plummeted out of control, half submerged in water, sea foam erupting with every one of their attacks.

Holding Thundercracker's neck, Skywarp shoved him against an enormous rock. Thundercracker shouted furiously as his head smacked the hard surface behind him again and again.

"What's wrong, TC?! Too rough for you, slagging _Autobot_?!"

The provocation couldn't have been more effective. Thundercracker pushed Skywarp backward with a violent kick, shattering the black Seeker's cockpit into countless pieces.

"Shut up! You don't have the slightest idea what you are talking about!"

"Then why don't you explain to me, then?!" Skywarp scowled back, returning the courtesy and collapsing Thundercracker's cockpit with a brutal hit of his knee.

"You wouldn't understand! You were created as a Seeker but me… Slag! I'm not even an authentic Seeker!" he cried desperately.

Skywarp dodged a punch that had all intentions of shattering his remaining optic.

"Interesting theory. What do you say about giving it a try, brother?" he smirked evilly.

Putting all his strength in his right foot, Skywarp embedded it onto Thundercracker's right wing. Groaning in pain, Thundercracker fell to his knees, his hand on his damaged wing, salt water caressing his chest.

"That was pretty authentic to me!" Skywarp shouted. "Only a real Seeker has that kind of sensitivity on their wings…" Leaning his body against the huge rock behind him, he rested his arms on his legs, air intakes erupting water heavily.

"If you weren't so stubborn you would understand…" Skywarp continued, staring sadly at his knocked down friend. "A Seeker builds himself. Not even Vector Sigma can create such a thing as an authentic Seeker. But that's not why you're so angry. Blaming yourself for what happened to your creator is not the answer, TC…"

No Decepticon online knew of a more horrible idea than not finishing a fallen enemy. That sacred rule was suddenly painfully remembered as Thundercracker quickly stood up and pounced onto Skywarp, his anger renewed.

The brutal strength of the attack was too much. A crunching noise came from the inferior part of Skywarp's right leg an astro second before unbearable pain started burning in his knee joints. The huge rock behind burst into pieces as both Seekers stomped on it, landing roughly on the beach.

Knowing he couldn't resist much, Skywarp's desperation focused entirely on his fists, blindly directing them toward the rage above. Every punch found metal... every hit cementing its purpose of causing damage.

Lost within the blindness of pain and fury, Skywarp saw the shine. Something fell from one of Thundercracker's arm compartments, opened by the violence of the fight. It was a small and round object.

Instinctively, Skywarp grabbed it, realizing at the same time Thundercracker wasn't fighting back anymore. It was all clear now.

Limping backward, Skywarp stared deeply at the Cybertronian puzzle sphere. "I had forgotten about these toys… I never had one, anyway," he said quietly, all anger vanishing.

Thundercracker sat down on the sand. Sparks jumped from open wounds, his face full of small dents.

"They're not built anymore," he replied weakly.

"You know, TC? Next time you want to punish yourself I would appreciate it if you kept me out of the process. If you wanted so much to be aft kicked you should have paid a visit to the Stunticons…"

Skywarp gave an uneasy step ahead as his knee joint finally gave up, bending painfully as the Seeker fell heavily onto the sand.

"Slag you!" Skywarp cursed. "You broke my fragging knee joint!" he shouted. However, the little metal puzzle was still in his grasp.

Thundercracker bowed his head. "I warned you to leave…"

"You should know me better, TC… I wasn't going to."

"I knew you wouldn't…"

Dense silence prevailed for some minutes. Sea waves continued washing against the beach's edge. The water licked both Decepticon's feet as the sun showered them widely. Morning had arrived.

"I melted his body, just as he requested," Thundercracker finally said.

Skywarp nodded slowly, all attention focused on his friend.

"He said you were kind with him, Warp. I thank you for that," Thundercracker continued.

"Kind? I don't think I was kind… I hope you both were able to solve your differences before he…" Skywarp stopped then, cursing himself internally. He would have given anything for a little bit of prudence in that moment.

"We didn't talk too much; there wasn't really much to say. He said…"

Thundercracker's fists clenched, half buried in the sand. He was shaking, and not because of his injures.

"He said he was proud of me," he continued, his voice broken.

Skywarp dragged his battered structure toward his friend and handed him the Cybertronian puzzle. The blue Seeker took it in silence.

"It must be true. A creator knows about those things, I guess…"

"Do you really think so, Warp? Do you think I have something worth being proud of?"

"I don't know… That's a question you should ask yourself, TC. You are asking the wrong mech here."

Thundercracker stared deeply at his wingmate. "You never had a creator, did you?"

Skywarp shrugged his shoulders. "Not that I needed one. I was built by a machine with the only purpose of becoming a warrior. If it weren't for Vector Sigma I wouldn't be nothing more than a fragging dron."

"I was selfish, Warp. I abandoned my creator for so long and somehow... I thought by coming back I would solve everything."

"Well, somehow you did… You shouldn't blame yourself, bro… Besides we are Seekers… we're supposed to be selfish," Skywarp smirked.

"I thought we were supposed to be vain," Thundercracker added pointedly.

Skywarp's smile increased. Mischievous optics glowed brightly. "We are Primus gift to all femmes, especially me."

"Warp…"

"What?"

"I never thanked you… for saving my life."

"Shut up. You would've done the same for me."

Thundercracker nodded. "You bet your aft I would."

"Then gratitude is out of the question. Besides, if beating the slag out of me is your way of thanking me I prefer you keep it to yourself. My left optic is killing me, you fragger!" Skywarp complained covering his face with both hands.

"Well, if somebody was going to crush me it had to be my best friend... Sorry about your optic, though. I know what it feels. One of those slagging Autobots almost blinded me…"

Skywarp uncovered his face, staring seriously at his wingmate. "Is that the reason, TC… you know… why you don't like to kill Autobots? I mean… because somehow you are an Au..."

"I don't enjoy killing, period. It's as simple as that," interrupted Thundercracker.

"But your beliefs…"

"I'm a Decepticon, Warp. I joined the cause by my own decision. Nothing will change that. But that doesn't stop me from questioning some methods or force me to actually hate the Autobots."

"Frag, that's heavy… Better hope Megatron don't catch you saying that crap."

"He already knows. I told him exactly what I told you."

"And you're still functioning? Primus, TC! You're full of surprises!"

"Megatron doesn't give a slag about my origins or opinions as long as my loyalty remains in place. Not all of us follow the cause passionately; neither do some of the Autobots. Maybe when I have a clear understanding about my part in this war then I'll be able to answer your questions."

Skywarp frowned. He didn't know how to feel. Satisfied? Disappointed? He shook his head, exhausted. One thing was for certain: he had had enough for a cycle.

"Let's get back to base… Our shifts start in a few hours and we need to visit the repair bay beforehand," he said trying to stabilize his leg.

"I know. Hook will have a circuit glitch when he sees us in this condition," Thundercracker replied, standing up.

"We can say we were ambushed by the Aerialbots… that's always a good excuse."

"Let's try keeping our dignity this time. Can you fly?"

"Of course I can! You're not that tough, TC… But this damn knee…" Skywarp complained, unable to stand by himself.

"Here, let me help you," Thundercracker offered, supporting his friend's arm over his shoulder.

Both Seekers slowly levitated, getting away from the refreshing marine breeze.

"We have enough altitude. Are you ready to transform?" Thundercracker asked, still carrying his wingmate.

"I think so…"

The blue Seeker let his friend go. Skywarp hesitated but managed to transform into his alt mode. The black F-15 lost some altitude before stabilizing.

Thundercracker transformed as well and both Decepticons started on their way back.

"_TC…"_ Skywarp's voice said through the commlink.

"_What?"_

"_Your creator…__ he was right, you know… he had many reasons to feel proud of you."_

Thundercracker didn't reply. Sadness hadn't decreased, but for the first time in millions of vorns, he could see the light that finally had a name.

Hope.

**THE END**

* * *

_A/N: __That was it… Hope all of you enjoyed this long chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. I leave this fic loving TC and Warp more than I already did. What is it about Transformers that conquer our hearts, not to mention other organs? _

_If you would be so kind, please leave __a review telling your final comments. __Thanks again for reading this story :o)_

_And don't forget to check the sequel, "Deviant", already posted. Look in my profile for more details.  
_


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